That is why I was so anxious to leave Paris. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts.
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