The manager conceded that he saw, that his original diagnosis was at fault. She swallowed hard. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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