” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. It was a pity people had to eat food. “She must be warned. Don’t leave me in this beastly thing. ‘I do not know him.
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