Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance.
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