She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. " "And you married me, knowing?" "I married the man who bought a sing-song girl to give her her freedom. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant.
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