She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. That’s what I mean. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. This ice was used for refrigerator purposes and for McClintock's evening peg. In truth, she liked Gerald also. It was the girl. But it was not so ordered. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. "Perhaps things would have been different if she had lived.
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