The moral right of the author has been asserted. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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