" The glasses chime, and the last of the wine makes its way down our throats. Gathering up the glasses, and the remains of our pastry dessert, we begi... our descent into the warmly lit streets of Montmartre arm in arm. All the way back to our hotel, we talk excitedly of the next few days: the Musee d'Orsay and no more of the Louvre than we feel like, walks in the parks and the grounds of Versailles, strolling the Marais, and her long-anticipated tour of the Galeries Lafayette. We're so lost in. He placed a hand on each of her cheeks.Gently, he pulled her to her feet and took her in his arms, just holding her, mutely, while her entire body wracked with sobs. Leaning on his toes, he rocked her back and forth, slowly, soothingly, for a long time, waiting as she cried herself out.Over Manjula’s shoulder, Tony made a gesture at his mother. He let Manjula go. His mother put her hands on Manjula’s shoulders, gingerly, as if petting a scary-looking dog for the first time. Tony scowled, and. More

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