’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. Her patience was waning fast. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. Queer world. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist.
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