He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. ” She had forged birth certificates dating back to before anyone in the building had been born. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth.
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