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We were
certainly noticed by the passers-by. A couple of women looked at Dan
with interest, and a few men looked at me. It was obvious we weren’t
French from our dress, and more than one person must have wondered what
two foreign young people were doing there when the collapse of France
seemed imminent. I heard Dan say “Smile, Joan,” and the next thing I
knew he had his hand on my shoulder, holding me close by his side as we
walked along. “Everyone loves a lover,” he reminded me. “We’ll be less
suspicious this way.”
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