Doctor Ralph looked kind and large, and listened to Alice’s responses as though he was listening to symptoms and thought that on the whole she was progressing favorably. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. She dismissed the idea of doing so. We were only—les autres.
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