The garçon was tipped as he had never been tipped before in his life. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent. “Well, make sure you use something. They fell into step again. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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