She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. . The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. These things are difficult. ” She threw away the end of her cigarette.
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