“She wasn’t sane, my wife. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ” For a moment or two he did not speak. Light flooded the place. ’ But I made sure it was you. ” He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. .
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