She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. She was nude and horribly maimed. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. He turned the water off and handed her a towel.
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