" "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. People who would not go. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. I hated him. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry.
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