After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. She heard him come in; the light burned on. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us.
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