She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. Was not Gerald altogether on her side? He was, even though he played games like an imbecile, a person tout à fait sympathique as she had discovered at the outset. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau.
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