In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. " Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself.
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