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Unformatted text preview: lk to me as if I were addle-brained, for I am not. Walk me across Prytania Street. It's too wide. Then you go back and fix the flowers for my darling girl, won't you, and how do you know who I am, may I ask?" "I bring your flowers on your birthday, ma'am, lots and lots of flowers every year. You know my name. My name is Hanky. Don't you remember me? I wave when I pass the gate." It wasn't said with reproach, but he was highly suspicious now and very likely to take action, to force her into a cab, or worse, to go call someone to head her off", for it was perfectly obvious that she ought not to be able to make this trek alone. "Ah, yes, Hanky, I do remember you of course, and your father was Harry who went in the Vietnam War. And then there was your mother, who moved back to Virginia." "Yes, ma'am, you've got it all right. You've got it perfect." How delighted he was. That was the most maddening and annoying aspect of old age. If you could add two and two people clapped for you! They clapped. It was true. It was pathetic. Of course she remembered Harry. He'd delivered flowers to them for...
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- Spring '10