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Chapter 10: Fault Lines
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Chapter 12: The Train to Paris
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... e usual daytime crowd workers grabbing a quick meal, merchants counting their earnings had been replaced by a quieter, more observant clientele.
Some men sat in groups, speaking in hushed tones about politics, the army, or the price of bread.
Others sat alone, nursing their wine, listening more than they spoke.
Étienne Moreau had learned a long time ago that a place like this wasn't just for drinking. It was for listening.
He sat at his usual table near the window ...
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