She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. I am almost old enough to be your father. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness.
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