Part 5 The next morning she waited in the laboratory at the lunch-hour in the reasonable certainty that he would come to her. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. A creeping numbness invaded her. "I never stand upon ceremony where I know I shall be welcome. I might have told you the truth. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables.
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