\"So John, are you two lovebirds going to the Junior Prom or what?\" He paused, smirking. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. He closed the door. Been making herself at home all right.
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