so she walked half the length of manhattan, through long, empty, echoing streets. it was four-thirty when she knocked at his door. he had been asleep. she shook her head. "no," she said. "go back to sleep, i just want to be here." she did not touch him. she took off her hat and shoes, huddled into an armchair, and fell asleep, har arm hanging over the chair's side, her head on the arm. in the morning he asked no questions. they fixed breakfast together, then he hurried away to his office. before leaving, he took her in his arms and kissed her. he walked out, and she stood for a few moments, then left. they had not exchanged twenty words.
you should read the fountainhead. it's sitting on your couch still, i'm sure.
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you should read the fountainhead.
it's sitting on your couch still, i'm sure.
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