She wants to scream, or burst into tears, or run out into her own safe garden, or make angry demands, and she can't do any of them here in front of M. Joly. She sets her coffee cup down on the desk with hands that are just beginning to tremble, and presses her clasped hands to her mouth, and bows her head so her ringlets fall forward and hide her face a little.
"He protected me from it," she whispers, staring at the strange tiled floor. "And you protected me too, and so I knew nothing whatsoever. I told him over and over again that he was welcome, so many times. But he only smiled. He only called me Madame. I knew nothing at all."
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She wants to scream, or burst into tears, or run out into her own safe garden, or make angry demands, and she can't do any of them here in front of M. Joly. She sets her coffee cup down on the desk with hands that are just beginning to tremble, and presses her clasped hands to her mouth, and bows her head so her ringlets fall forward and hide her face a little.
"He protected me from it," she whispers, staring at the strange tiled floor. "And you protected me too, and so I knew nothing whatsoever. I told him over and over again that he was welcome, so many times. But he only smiled. He only called me Madame. I knew nothing at all."
She won't cry again. She won't, she won't.