Then she took high ground: "Tut, tut, it isn't my fault if he is a cuckold!" And toasted on every side and as hot as a roast bird, she went and buried herself under the bedclothes after ringing for Zoe to usher in the other man, who was waiting in the kitchen.
Once outside, Muffat began walking at a furious pace.

A fresh shower had just fallen, and he kept slipping on the greasy pavement.

When he looked mechanically up into the sky he saw ragged, soot-colored clouds scudding in front of the moon.

At this hour of the night passers-by were becoming few and far between in the Boulevard Haussmann.

He skirted the enclosures round the opera house in his search for darkness, and as he went along he kept mumbling inconsequent phrases.