" Mr. Man's fate is in his own hands. The door leaned inward. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. Mr. You must wait till supper's over. " "Yes. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word.
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