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Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand.
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