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4. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. I got a rusty bolt cutter. The tropical dawn is swift. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. She threw the bags of marijuana and a tiny bag of white powder he had in the sewer, unfortunately they were his only worldly possessions. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about.
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