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No ExitIf we've absolutely got to mention this-this state of things, I suggest we call ourselves-wait!-absentees. Have you been-been absent for long? GARCIN: About a month. ESTELLE: Where do you come from? GARCIN: From Rio. ESTELLE: I'm from Paris. Have you anyone left down there? GARCIN:Yes, my wife. She's waiting at the entrance of the barracks. She comes there every day. But they won't let her in. Now she's trying to peep between the bars. She doesn't yet know I'm- absent, but she suspects it. Now she's going away. She's wearing her black dress. So much the better, she won't need to change. She isn't crying, but she never did cry, anyhow. It's a bright, sunny day and she's like a black shadow creeping down the empty street. Those big tragic eyes of hers- with that martyred look they always had. Oh, how she got on my nerves! INEZ: Estelle! ESTELLE: Please, Mr. Garcin! GARCIN: What is it? ESTELLE: You're sitting on my sofa. GARCIN: I beg your pardon. ESTELLE: You looked so-so far away. Sorry I disturbed you. GARCIN: I was setting my life in order ...» | Код для вставки книги в блог HTML
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