’ She shook her head. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. There was a little pause between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and intimations. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper.
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