And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. Hopefully. He is Jacques.
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