” Michelle sat in a yogi’s posture on the cold plywood, her eyes closed as if meditating. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son.
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