Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football.
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