" The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. Little did he know that she had begged her parents as a youngster to get her a language tutor. " The girl smiled and began to munch a sandwich. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. Everything was going to hell. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin.
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