She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. It’s obvious you have eyes for someone else. We'll try whether he'll get loose again. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom.
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