There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. He advanced a step towards her. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done.
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