She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. She glanced at him and made a dismissive gesture. It brought no coconut. Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. I'd have got something nice. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. I’ll give you an uncrossed check, and then you can get it at the bank here, quite close by.
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