“An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. E. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. She lied.
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