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He drew a little breath of relief. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. Occasionally she would be missing a sock or a bra, so she took to storing those things in her gym locker. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. "I don't know. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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