‘The sister ran after them and brought them back and had Owen heaved into the icebox.’
And every little sneaky infidelity . . . every little back-alley footpadding to find some quickie with a hustler — where does that fit into the code?
Suddenly the signal is given, and the orchestra begins to play. This orchestra deserves a special mention. It consisted of eight musicians: two violins, one of which was the property of a convict, while the other had been borrowed from outside; three balalaiki, made by the convicts themselves; two guitars, and a tambourine. The violins sighed and shrieked, and the guitars were worthless, but the balalaiki were remarkably good; and the agile fingering of the artists would have done honour to the cleverest executant.
The mystique spelled out a choice—love, home, children, or other goals and purposes in life. […] The baby boom of the immediate postwar years took place in every country. But it was not permeated, in most other countries, with the mystique of feminine fulfillment.
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