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He offered her a huge bouquet of choice flowers which were rare inSaumur; then, taking the heiress by the elbows, he kissed her on eachside of her neck with a complacency that made her blush. Thepresident, who looked like a rusty iron nail, felt that his courtshipwas progressing. b wigglebottom

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"Don't stand on ceremony," said Grandet, entering. "How well you dothings on fete-days, Monsieur le president!" wig amazon

"When it concerns mademoiselle," said the abbe, armed with his ownbouquet, "every day is a fete-day for my nephew." b wigs instagram

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The abbe kissed Eugenie's hand. As for Maitre Cruchot, he boldlykissed her on both cheeks, remarking: "How we sprout up, to be sure!Every year is twelve months."

As he replaced the candlestick beside the clock, Grandet, who neverforgot his own jokes, and repeated them to satiety when he thoughtthem funny, said,,

"As this is Eugenie's birthday let us illuminate."

He carefully took off the branches of the candelabra, put a socket oneach pedestal, took from Nanon a new tallow candle with paper twistedround the end of it, put it into the hollow, made it firm, lit it, andthen sat down beside his wife, looking alternately at his friends, hisdaughter, and the two candles. The Abbe Cruchot, a plump, puffy littleman, with a red wig plastered down and a face like an old femalegambler, said as he stretched out his feet, well shod in stout shoeswith silver buckles: "The des Grassins have not come?"

"Not yet," said Grandet.

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