It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. I must go to work again. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. Pierre. Abruptly, Gerald turned. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers.
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