She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Kneebone smiled assent. She felt his crotch through his jeans. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish.
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