Flushed by a good, stiff sea breeze and not a little gratified by the great French naval review he had just witnessed, Premier Herriot of France stepped off a French torpedo boat at Marseille. A luxurious limousine awaited him. But no, he would make the journey à pied; limousines were for the capitalists, feet for the honest working men; so off went Edouard, his shoes squeaking under the weight of his corpulence. Great crowds assembled. The Premier smiled. Great crowds followed. The Premier was delighted. Many times he stopped, shook hands, conversed,...
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