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[42] N OT TO B E She watches the two of them disengage, observes the woman’s eyes following him window after window, out of range. She would like to be loved like that, passion of a hawk, Una in the hand mirror, the house built on rock. He’s off-limits to them both. She suspects the woman, doesn’t trust herself, wants to take from this moment not his Irish buck-toothed grin but the way he shuts the gate as if he cared too much. ...

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