She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. She recalled that she had heard nothing that first time when Gerald and the captain had burst in upon her. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. He heard the woman talking again. Now then. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. Michelle winked at her and left to join the gathering of seats in the center of the theater.
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