In the soft grey silence he could hear the bump of the balls: and from here and from there through the quiet air the sound of the cricket bats: pick, pack, pock, puck: like drops of water in a fountain falling softly in the brimming bowl. He walked onward, dismayed, wondering whether he had strayed into the quarter of the Jews. Physically speaking, we can not separate. I put out my hand to her and she took it; I held her hard a little, liking to feel her close to me.
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