” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked.
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