“The Bohemian elements of Easthampton were assembled here: thirty men and women all more or less connected through sex and an interest in the arts. Nobody paid any attention to me as I walked in the open front door. The only light came from stumps of candles stuck in bottles: the whole thing was quaint as hell. In the living room somebody was playing a guitar, concert style, while everybody else sat on the floor talking, not listening. I found Liz in the dining room, helping herself to some dang...erous-looking red wine. She threw her arms about me dramatically. “I was so terrified!” I murmured soothing words to her while a bearded fat man drifted by, playing with a yo-yo. Then she looked at me carefully and I could see, under the play acting, that she was genuinely concerned. “You’re sure you feel all right?” she felt my head; her eyes growing round when she touched the bump which was now like a solid walnut. “I feel just fine. Do you think you ought to drink that stuff?” I pointed to the wine which had come from an unlabeled gallon jug, like cider.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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