‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. The musician. He had never wanted daughters. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. Good riddance. The night was now profoundly dark. A good deal of the food will be in tins. I will take her back.
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