To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. They were silent for a time. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. \" Michelle replied. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. \" \"No, but can you carry my lunch bag? Where is yours?\" Michelle asked. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won.
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