” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. ” Michelle looked puzzled. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. ‘Must be still downstairs. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. In one grave, mind. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. The image did not move.
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