The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. What's all this about, anyhow? You. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone.
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