You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. For a long time neither spoke again. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. All the linen was new and stamped with the mark of Whiteaway, Laidlaw & Co. She had never been so happy to vomit. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices.
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