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For Esmé with Love and Squalor

           Iorderedanotherpotofteaandsatwatchingthetwoofthemtillthey,andtheharassedMissMegley,gotuptoleave.Charlesledthewayout,limpingtragically,likeamanwithonelegseveral,inchesshorterthantheother.Hedidn’tlookoveratme.MissMegleywentnext,thenEsme,whowavedtome.Iwavedback,halfgettingupfrommychair.Itwasastrangelyemotionalmomentforme.

           Lessthanaminutelater,Esmecamebackintothetearoom,draggingCharlesbehindherbythesleeveofhisreefer."Charleswouldliketokissyougoodbye,"shesaid.

           Iimmediatelyputdownmycup,andsaidthatwasverynice,butwasshesure?

           "Yes,"shesaid,atriflegrimly.SheletgoCharles’sleeveandgavehimarathervigorouspushinmydirection.Hecameforward,hisfacelivid,andgavemealoud,wetsmackerjustbelowtherightear.Followingthisordeal,hestartedtomakeabeelineforthedoorandalesssentimentalwayoflife,but1caughtthehalfbeltatthebackofhisreefer,heldontoit,andaskedhim,"Whatdidonewallsaytotheotherwall?"

           Hisfacelitup."Meetyouatthecorner!"heshrieked,andracedoutoftheroom,possiblyinhysterics.

           Esmewasstandingwithcrossedanklesagain."You’requitesureyouwon’tforgettowritethatstoryforme?"sheasked."Itdoesn’thavetobeexclusivelyforme.Itcan"

           IsaidtherewasabsolutelynochancethatI’dforget.ItoldherthatI’dneverwrittenastoryforanybody,butthatitseemedlikeexactlytherighttimetogetdowntoit.

           Shenodded.

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