But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home. His smile faded. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady.
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