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Crevice Weeds Writings—«waifs of many a wreck»—motley and fragmentary writings—sketchy and faulty—failed, perhaps—unconfined—along the borders, upon the thresholds and into the chinks of literature, «as foam that the sea-winds fret»…

July 2, 1975

… and then he saw there, sitting at a wooden table, the unknown dark heroine of the tale, a girl with long, dark hair, as dark blue clad as he was, her face reminding Charlotte’s face. A cheerful girl, smiling and sucking a white popsicle. Beside her there were a curly blond chubby friend wearing spectacles, and two children in blue overalls—her brothers, perhaps.

 A few looks passed between him and her. He knew that she knew, and she knew that he knew. She was cheerful and mischievous. He was ill at ease, doubtful, self-conscious, and secretly stared at her …