’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly. Mrs. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. The crowd dispersed in different directions, and most fortunately a heavy shower coming on, put them altogether to flight. I had a hunch. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried.
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