I was to blame to carry the matter so far. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise.
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