She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. His curiosity put itself into a question. ‘Eh bien. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. And yet it was basically a fine action. ” And to that, through vast rhetorical meanderings, she clung. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. .
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