He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work.
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