‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. Their minds are turned against him. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. Idiote.
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