Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. Strange, I could never learn her history. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay.
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