The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. “Sold again,” she remarked. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself.
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