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Mr. ” Her hand fell back into her lap. White. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. In the morning and at night he is dressed as he would dress in the big hotels. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living.
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