95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Before he re-entered the prison, he hesitated from a doubt whether he was not fearfully increasing his risk of capture; but, convinced that he had no other alternative, he went on. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life.
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