They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. I want to ask you a plain question, and you must answer me faithfully. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch.
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