And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. I want to leave Paris to-day. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks.
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