‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. ” Michelle sat in a yogi’s posture on the cold plywood, her eyes closed as if meditating. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. I never could.
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