144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him.
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