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THEY read the long afternoon through, while the cold November rain fell from the sky upon the quiet house. They sat in the hall because the parlour was so empty and grey-looking without its walls lit with orange and yellow confetti and sky-rockets and women in gold-mesh dresses and men in black velvet pulling one-hundred-pound rabbits from silver hats
"Montag found himself on his feet, the shocked inhabitants of the loud car staring,
The front door opened slowly. Faber peered out, looking very old in the light and very fragile and very much afraid.
Mrs. Phelps was crying. The others in the middle of the desert watched her crying grow very loud as her face squeezed itself out of shape. They sat, not touching her, bewildered by her display.
"Mildred?" He called at the door of the darkened bedroom. There was no sound.
At last Montag raised his eyes and turned. Beatty was watching his face. "Something the matter, Montag?" "Why," said Montag slowly, "we've stopped in front of my house.
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