No. 61: March 1971

Rougeot

Moved by a sort of premonition — one entirely vindicated by what would happen — I arranged for C.T. not to stay and made a “backup meeting” with P. at the Rougeot restaurant near Montparnasse.


At Rougeot, I find P. with F. I am furious.


P. says to me only:

“Indeed, Rougeot really is quite good.”

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