Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. I love him as a brother. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh.
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