The tension was palpable. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. When I heard about Larry I was going 159 to call you, I was, but, well, there is no excuse, is there? I acted like I was afraid of you, afraid that I liked you, so I ignored you like a coward. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns.
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