” She said fretfully. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. “You are absurd,” she declared. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. The fever came. To-night we leave for Marseilles. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. It is different. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life.
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