‘Dear me. It will take a month to clean up. I didn’t understand. The truth at once flashed across his mind. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “I said that at the Zoo, and I mean it.
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