"Every town, like every man, has its own countenance; they have a common likeness and yet are different; one keeps in his mind all their peculiar touches."

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Alice Malloy had dark, stringy hair, and even her husband, who loved her more than he knew, was sometimes reminded by her lean face of a tenement doorway on a rainy day, for her countenance was long, vacant, and weakly lighted, a passage for the gentle transports and miseries of the poor.

— John Cheever