She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. More importantly, she had her wits.
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