She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for. behind the Laundromat. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him.
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