"Not at all."
She seemed disappointed. "Yes, you do. Everybody does. I dont mind. Itsuseful."
She sat down on one of the rickety red-velvet chairs, curved her legs underhher, and glanced round the room, her eyes puckering more pronouncedly. "How you bear it? Its a chamber of horrors."
"Oh, you get used to anything," I said, annoyed with myself, for actually I roud of the place.
"I dont. Ill never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well bedead." Her dispraising eyes surveyed the room again. "What do you do here all day?"
I motiooward a table tall with books and paper. "Write things."
"I thought writers were quite old. Of course Saroyan isnt old. I met him at aparty, and really he isnt old at all. In fact," she mused, "if hed give himself a closershave ... by the way, is Hemingway old?"
"In his forties, I should think."
"Thats not bad. I t get excited by a man until hes forty-two. I know this idiotgirl who keeps telling me I ought to g……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
抱歉，章节内容不支持该浏览器显示～
【为了使用完整的阅读功能】
请考虑使用〔Chrome 谷歌浏览器〕、〔Safari 苹果浏览器〕或者〔Edge 微软浏览器〕等原生浏览器阅读！
谢谢!!!