Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain.
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