’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. “Listen,” she said.
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