She had looked forward to an explanation. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. " "Where are you going?" asked his mother. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out.
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