Miss inter died and t falling. ood ime at tcion of t sky. teration in teness told us it o bed.
I a ternoon.
t eleped separated us from t of tively as a prison key. Miss inter o as Emmeline, and rapped.
t less. It put ; like t from one o anot ly at Judits restoration ter t, if iced it at all, left ally undisturbed.
to a sideension of time, and urbable, made vegetable soup, cleaned tc and, and tivity, played endless games of solitaire, but o distract terness.
As for me, I spent ting up my final notes, but settle to reading. Even S reac an rying to name in it. I realized t I missed Miss inter. So, o tco play cards ea er let Judith file and polish my own nails.
In t sat out to linger on past its time.
On to be overcome by a vast sorrow.
I aire at table. e o t onto t of t drift so into teness and at bay for years by means of books and bookcases approacered by a tall o a sorro self, and as untainted. I cried for Miss inter, for , for Adeline and Emmeline. For my sister, my motly, and most terribly, I cried for myself. My grief of t, nein, making sudden, sting crying on a bencory lighe snow.
o myself Dr. Clifton an arm around me. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
kno really. And yet t s, o us all. “I know,” herefore, in a way, he did.
o h.
‘Oh. ”Shall I bring cocoa?“
‘itouc, I think,“ he said.
Maurice pulled out a co stoke the fire.
I sipped tor it or.
Juditucked a sarted peeling potatoes for dinner. Sor made t—elepored—and in making took it upon to start ter deatopped us all in its tracks.
Little by little ts melded togetion.
I listened to ter a time, joined in.