She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. You do not believe me.
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