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18 An Afternoon Message It came at four—Mary was on her way home from seeing Estes Drover, having left Kathy with a friend of Hilda Abel. A voice called and a young man in a blue windbreaker, the only soul in sight on Seymour Street, jogged past without stopping or turning his head. But she knew. Casually, as though she all along intended to, she slanted across the street, stopped as though checking her bag for something, and turned to go in the direction he had vanished in, eventually turning a corner, where she saw, up ahead, a flash of blue entering a small corner grocery. She entered, too. The face that turned to her was not the one she longed for, but of such a type that suggested the other, haircut jagged, thoughtful mouth, waiting eyes. She all but caught his arm. He reached for instant coffee. She knelt for sugar. "Around the corner," he murmured . "The park. By that statue in the middle. Feed pigeons." She bought a box of bread crumbs. 208 ...

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