O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. But he had been forewarned by his great-nephew. The door was then locked, and he was left alone. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. " Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly. He was human.
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