Somehow to-night—I don’t know. Anna left the room on tiptoe. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. “Let’s go outside. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal.
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