‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. That’s really what I want to discuss.
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