. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood. She had told Emile.
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