It was then for the first time she remembered that she had said nothing to her sister of the man in the hospital. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. There was only one sound—the fall of the sea upon the main beach, and even that said: "Hush! Hush! Hus-s-sh!" Not a leaf stirred, not a shadow moved. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart.
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