” He would say every time she wore it. I don’t feel it. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. There isn’t.
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