"One last embrace. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. So, by way of gaining time, he resolved to question him further. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test.
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