He brightened as she took off her hood. “I know nothing about your wife. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. But what a monster was this Emile. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. “It’s funny, the way a good house feels.
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