" "Peace!" cried the knight, fiercely. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Her faith in human beings revived. She wanted to be alone. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. “Great, Cathy. ” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself.
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