If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. But Michelle’s heart seemed to grow fonder to the subject proportionally to Lucy’s avoidance of it. I loved her so much. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. Mr.
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