But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. 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. But in the appendix of the dictionary she had discovered magic names—Hugo, Dumas, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Lytton. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. So the talk went on. Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. He savored the last solo, the coda.
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