He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. There was something indeed holding the whole species back from the imaginable largeness of life.
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