Cathy threw Mike a look. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. just furtive meetings. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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