It is June 18, 19**. On this astonishingly hot afternoon, Étienne Pignon is sitting—unusually upright by his standards—at the head of a long, lavishly set table on the shore of a lake, grinning from ear to ear.
It is June 18, 19**. On this astonishingly hot afternoon, Étienne Pignon is sitting—unusually upright by his standards—at the head of a long, lavishly set table on the shore of a lake, grinning from ear to ear.
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