“Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. She will die if she knows I have a gun. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty.
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