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On either side, the trees are tall and here the wind is strangely human. A tender speech is combing through the willows.
He stops to listen, then finds himself at the counter ordering a pint. The day is no longer his own.
Stack, like every man who has never known a woman, believed he knew a great deal about women.
‘Do you know nothing?’ she said. ‘No.’ ‘Neither do I.’ ‘Aren’t we blessed?’
