“Had it started when Danton came to Maine? Or when Dockerty had fired him? Or had it really started that first day with Sylvia when, for no reason that either of them could isolate later, they had reached very quickly a level of utter frankness. He knew when the other phase of it had started. After that first day he did not see her for a week, but he thought about her a great deal. She was in his mind more often than was reasonable or understandable. The thought of her married to Harry made him ...feel slightly queasy, yet there was no reason, he thought, to feel that way. She was certainly far from a virgin bride, probably as far as you could get. There was that Joey Tower and then somebody she didn’t name, and then Lennie and Frenchy and Windsalla. And God knows how many in between, or, earlier, how many sordid episodes in the alleys and hallways and staircases and packing boxes and parked cars of Hell’s Kitchen. She was certainly too hardened to feel squeamish about Harry’s flabby fifty-three-year-old body, or the hard round pot on the front of him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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