7 April. -- Roquenton has died again. This time, he accepted his fate with good humor. He had asked me to dine with him, and at midnight, we were in the living room, drinking champagne. At the moment when he took the dive, Roquenton was standing, and suddenly we saw his clothes fall in a heap on the carpet. In fact, it was rather comical. Nonetheless, the fit of mirth in which Lucette indulged herself struck me as inappropriate.
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|Copyright 1997 Karen Reshkin|