You go cheer him up. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. And Pottiswick, of course. Always as black and bitter as gall. Stonily he had disengaged himself. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. He stood transfixed. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses.
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