Their conversation became stilted. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides.
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