She met him by the dugout after the game. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. It doesn't matter that you deal with black people. Her little white hand stole across the table. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house.
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