He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. She positioned it over her arm, placing the firing end in Rhea’s mouth. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. As the wedding neared, she bought some finer things: a veal roast for supper, a single pearl for the dowry. But it sounds too real to be imagined. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. I can save you, and will. Cathy threw Mike a look. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. . She opened the door to him herself. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. It is like a second honeymoon.
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