He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. ” “Then why,” Anna asked quietly, “do you run away? It is not like you. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. And girls and women, perhaps, are different.
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