’ She thrust him into the aperture, and pushed the hilt of the sword into his hand. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual.
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