If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. ‘Very well, never mind. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth.
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