She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. Of course, at home there would have been questions. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. Thing's upset you a bit. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations.
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