“Please don’t,” she said. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. It was something you were supposed to return, so she raced through all the television shows that she had watched over the years. She wanted to think. "Mine died while I was over here.
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