‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. Shocked and appalled, she brought her left knee up fast, ramming his testicles swiftly. “He can’t be more than thirty. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter.
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