A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Mirrors. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. She had no place she loved. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that he had brought no lunch. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself.
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