The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. He still watched her and questioned her. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. ’ Her flesh crept.
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