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" "I had to. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. The shock and distress were genuine. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. 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. “Yes?” he said. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours.
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