Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. More than half the city perished. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. Eight per cent. ” Michelle looked puzzled. ” “The sooner the better,” he answered.
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