They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. His hug became an embrace. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game.
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