The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. Let me walk you to the door. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. Michelle bypassed the ordering counter and surfed directly to their table. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench.
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