When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. He had seldom been more perturbed. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She repeated phrases of Mrs. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind.
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