She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. “I am fairly well known here. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated.
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