She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark.
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