human
November 22, 18--.
gpt
So it is a girl! cried Léon.
human
I am a father--and not a line, not a word for me! She is still making sport of me! This ends everything, probably, and I shall never hear another word about her. Who ever can she be, this unget-at-able creature who does as she likes with me and seems to hold my future in her hand, who remains invisible, and yet can find me out in this distant spot, and, according to her wayward humor, seeks me or forsakes me? Wretched ball! Fatal meeting!