She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. I stole away and walked to the railway station. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Buck up. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good.
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