They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception.
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