Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for her. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Giles's. . Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn.
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