The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. You have betrayed me. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her.
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