"Good-bye, young man; and good luck. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. "Don't alarm yourself.
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