“Fine. " He started to pick up a sheet of manuscript, but she pushed him from the table toward the doorway; and he staggered out of the bungalow, suddenly stretched his arms, and broke into a trot. It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. ‘But what will happen to Lucia? Are we to kill her?’ ‘Of course not.
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