The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

George Saunders Reads Claire Keegan

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Kahle and Sabine's First Argument

'There be no need for anything like that,' Kahle said. Afterward they went to Nearies, where it was quiet, and ordered tea and grilled cheese sandwiches which the bar-men brought to their little marble-topped table. She had little appetite, took just a few bites out of the sandwich and let her second cup of tea grow cold. A drizzle of rain started coming down as they walked past St Stephen's Green to the bus stop. For almost half an hour they waited there outside the Davenport before the bus finally came. But the rest of the weekend went remarkably well. As the hours passed she seemed to slowly forgive him, to soften. And the

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