He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. ” “I’m a married man. His literary instincts were reviving. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. Not a word passed between them. They’re in grad school and they both live in New York. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno.
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