“You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner.
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