Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light. I hope I may never come near her. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. All houses of means had not only a maid but usually a whole staff of servants. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. It is dull—deadly dull. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. It was no marriage at all. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips.
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