Immeasurable disgust possessed her. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards.
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