She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. Stanley. Better come another morning. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. "Speak English?" boomed the voice. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room.
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