He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. It dawned upon him that he had been abominably used by Ann Veronica. Goopes said that we must distinguish between sincerity and irony, which was often indeed no more than sincerity at the sublimated level. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace.
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