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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber: dream. He was there, a slender, graceful, hateful
figure, with the inevitable cigarette in his unsteady
fingers--the expensive-looking, gold-tipped cigarette of
the old days. Peter was Peter. Ten years had made
little difference. There were queer little hollow places
in his cheeks, and under the jaw-bone, and at the base of
the head, and a flabby, parchment-like appearance about
the skin. That was all that made him different from the
Peter of the old days.
The thing had adjusted itself, as Norah had said it
would. The situation that had filled me with loathing
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