She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. " "How do you spell the last name?" He spelt it. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter.
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