You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. She entered the last room, his bedroom. I don’t want to bother you, of course.
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