It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. “Certainly I was a little way off at the café, and she had a hat and veil on, but I could have sworn that it was ‘Alcide. ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy. ‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you.
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