’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. . ” “You are wonderful!” she murmured. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. Without you, we might have had some trouble. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. Every one of those four stories would be accepted. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork.
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