“It’s fine, Michelle. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. "But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder.
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