Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. My late husband, I mean. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. His manner was deferential, even eager. They rose as she approached. An uncomfortable silence followed. .
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