‘Alors, pig!’ she cried and lunged in quarte. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. There was some one there. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. But she did not believe he would do that. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her.
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