’ She thrust him into the aperture, and pushed the hilt of the sword into his hand. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. The ruffian's companions took his part. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own.
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