144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. " The girl smiled and began to munch a sandwich. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. She leaned back in her chair. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. . Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold.
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