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Chapter 11

           Shestared,frowning.Therewasthehedge,sureenough.Butonegotnothingbysolicitingurgently.Onegotonlyaglareintheeyefromlookingatthelineofthewall,orfromthinkingsheworeagreyhat.Shewasastonishinglybeautiful.Letitcome,shethought,ifitwillcome.Fortherearemomentswhenonecanneitherthinknorfeel.Andifonecanneitherthinknorfeel,shethought,whereisone?

           Hereonthegrass,ontheground,shethought,sittingdown,andexaminingwithherbrushalittlecolonyofplantains.Forthelawnwasveryrough.Heresittingontheworld,shethought,forshecouldnotshakeherselffreefromthesensethateverythingthismorningwashappeningforthefirsttime,perhapsforthelasttime,asatraveller,eventhoughheishalfasleep,knows,lookingoutofthetrainwindow,thathemustlooknow,forhewillneverseethattown,orthatmule-cart,orthatwomanatworkinthefields,again.Thelawnwastheworld;theywereupheretogether,onthisexaltedstation,shethought,lookingatoldMr.Carmichael,whoseemed(thoughtheyhadnotsaidawordallthistime)toshareherthoughts.Andshewouldneverseehimagainperhaps.Hewasgrowingold.Also,sheremembered,smilingattheslipperthatdangledfromhisfoot,hewasgrowingfamous.Peoplesaidthathispoetrywas"sobeautiful."Theywentandpublishedthingshehadwrittenfortyyearsago.

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