Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. \"So John, are you two lovebirds going to the Junior Prom or what?\" He paused, smirking. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. "I've done all I can to the portrait here.
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