Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Each time also we quarrel, and even if you are laughing very much, you become angry. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. Like the flaws of an old marble. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. “I can’t endure it,” she said.
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