But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. “It spreads like wildfire. ‘Ah, the tragedy. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. I did not reckon upon—him. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair.
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