Being a Chinaman in blood and instinct, he despised all spinsters; they were parasites. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. \"Can I get your ticket?\" He asked her as she approached the vendor. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter.
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