She hesitated. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. He kissed her once inside the car. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable. It means social isolation—struggle. She reflected before answering. Lord knew why he had any interest in an impertinent girl who would certainly have spit him with that dagger! He reached into his pocket and brought it out, examining it in the increasing light as he slowly made his way back up the terrace.
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