It was a brief solitude, however. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. And let ush go back to our brandewyn, and hollandsche genever. My father died a year ago, by the way.
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