So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. "I feel like work," he lied. It reverberated in the silence. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Now he would take her away from the house before killing her, and no one would find her body at all.
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