In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing.
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