Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so.
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