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Unformatted text preview: owan was dead; it was like she'd gone off and left the barn door open. And here was Mona coming along, mad for Michael Curry, this big woolly mammoth of a man. Mona stared up at the huge keyhole doorway for one moment, thinking of all the pictures she'd seen of family members in that door- way, over the years. Great-oncle Julien's portrait still hung at Amelia Street, though Mona's mother had to take it down every time Aunt Gifford came, even though it was a dreadful insult to Ancient Evelyn. Ancient Evelyn rarely said a word-only drawn out of her reverie by her terrible worry for Mona and Mona's mother, that Alicia was really dying finally from the drink, and Patrick was so far gone he didn't know for sure who he even was. Staring at the keyhole doorway, Mona felt almost as if she could see Oncle Julien now with his white hair and blue eyes. And to think he had once danced up there with Ancient Evelyn. The Talamasca hadn't known about that. The history had passed over Ancient Evelyn and h...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10