‘Well?’ she said. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. Maggot, laughing. After all, old P. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. "I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog.
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