They no more thought of Gaud than of any other woman, or any marrying.
And while they worked, Gaud looked attentively around the home of these Gaoses.
There was one for him, postmarked "Paimpol," but it was not Gaud's writing.
She was still so sweet in her lucid days, that Gaud did not cease to respect and cherish her.
Gaud excused herself as if she were responsible for her state.
He said this with such simple confidence that Gaud was amused.
Gaud felt very troubled at the idea of going to Yann's house.
But at the beginning of the evening, Gaud always had to talk to her to cheer her a little.
She understood immediately what Gaud was doing there; it was useless to dissemble with her.
Gaud did not wish yet to resort to that extreme resource of despairing wives.
