‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. The young man looked at her. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Not I. She cried and sobbed in fits. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. This is no place for me.
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