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The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. "Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly.
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