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Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. . They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. She gloried in it: he needed her. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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