He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. I think that I will tell you. Good night. “Twenty-two. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd.
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