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. A sob was strangled in her throat. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. “And think of the ordinary wives and mothers, with their anxiety, their limitations, their swarms of children!” Mr. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. The room seemed a vacuum. .
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