What did you talk about? I asked.
Oh, many things, said Pliny. Arthritis, diamond rings, dogs that urinate on carpets. Your mother is a lovely woman.
She is indeed, I agreed.
How old is she? he asked, carelessly.
Eighty three.
Oh, he said.
Why Pliny, I said, are you lonely?
Oh no, he said quickly. Is she?
Oh no, I said.
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