‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. Anna was suddenly very quiet. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham.
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