She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. She drew it out with shaking fingers. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. Always. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. Thanks. A rock gave way to deep water. And then I'll pay off old scores. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew.
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