The blood temporarily halted to her brain, Michelle slept peacefully again. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go.
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