Martha said to me that it must come to the bibliothéque. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. He must not in any way call their attention to it.
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