CHAPTER XXXI. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful.
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