They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. "Take courage, man; it is only Quilt Arnold. Birthdays just ain’t the same once you get old kiddo. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her.
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