"No!" she cried. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. Look at me. “Vee,” she said, “come home. Not a job he may care about; but he's a good sport. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything.
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