“It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. But you—you have a good face. Annabel had been here then. She was tempted to touch him in the car as they drove to the empty house, but she refrained for fear of causing a car accident. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. And Pottiswick, of course.
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