‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids.
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