Surely it was a dream. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told.
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