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Chapter 24

           Shewasnowwhatissometimescalleda"littlewildthing"bytwenty-fourfullhoursshewasnotyetunifiedandshewasabsorbedinplayingaroundwithchaos;asifherdestinywereapicturepuzzlecountingbenefits,countinghopes,tellingoffDick,Nicole,hermother,thedirectorshemetyesterday,likestopsonastringofbeads.

           WhenDickknockedshehadjustdressedandbeenwatchingtherain,thinkingofsomepoem,andoffullguttersinBeverlyHills.WhensheopenedthedoorshesawhimassomethingfixedandGodlikeashehadalwaysbeen,asolderpeoplearetoyounger,rigidandunmalleable.Dicksawherwithaninevitablesenseofdisappointment.Ittookhimamomenttorespondtotheunguardedsweetnessofhersmile,herbodycalculatedtoamillimetertosuggestabudyetguaranteeaflower.Hewasconsciousoftheprintofherwetfootonarugthroughthebathroomdoor.

           "MissTelevision,"hesaidwithalightnesshedidnotfeel.Heputhisgloves,hisbrief-caseonthedressing-table,hisstickagainstthewall.Hischindominatedthelinesofpainaroundhismouth,forcingthemupintohisforeheadandthecornerofhiseyes,likefearthatcannotbeshowninpublic.

           "Comeandsitonmylapclosetome,"hesaidsoftly,"andletmeseeaboutyourlovelymouth."

           Shecameoverandsatthereandwhilethedrippingsloweddownoutsidedripdri-i-ip,shelaidherlipstothebeautifulcoldimageshehadcreated.

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