Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. “They would spoil every chance. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. ’ Leonardo had taught her that. I decided to go in and wait. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. .
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