” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. Even our coarseness.
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