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Stay home. Marie's bringing some money, and I'll give it all to you.

[Approaching the door.] I'm going—for a walk—with Ficsur. We'll be right back.

[Forcing a smile to keep back her tears.] If you stay home, I'll get you a glass of beer—or wine, if you prefer.

Coming or not?

I'm not angry with you any more for hitting me.

[''Gruffly, but his gruffness it simulated to hide the fact that he cannot bear the sight of her suffering.''] Stand out of the way—or I'll [''He clenches his fist.''] Let me out!

[Trembling.] What have you got under your coat?

[Produces from his pocket a greasy pack of cards.] Cards.