Because of the Dance. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. There was a flash and a loud report. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. ‘You will take the place of André?’ ‘Exactly so. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. .
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