I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. This she put into the trunk. The day had become suddenly overcast. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. Treasure caves to explore! All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired.
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