You’re tired, of course. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. But she was not sure just how to reach it.
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