Your uncle—our uncle is with him. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. He hated horizons. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations.
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