Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. She met him by the dugout after the game. We tolerate you for your genius, that's a fact. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. I'll remember that. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him.
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