Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me.
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