The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood.
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