She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. You will be with me. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you.
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