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Unformatted text preview: ly closed, with slippers on his feet, hands in his pockets, hair even combed. "Why, that young man isn't sick," she said. Mona broke into sobs, staring helplessly from Ancient Evelyn to the ruddy dark-haired man on the porch. "Who said he was dying of a bad heart?" asked Ancient Evelyn as she watched him come down the steps. She reached out and clasped the young man's hand. "There's nothing wrong with this strapping young man at all!" Mine HE HAD asked them to gather in the library. The little brown portable gramophone was in the corner and that splendid neck- lace of long pearls, and the little packet of pictures of Stella and Ancient Evelyn when they had been young together. But he didn't want to talk about that now. He had to talk about Rowan. It made Mona happy that these things had been found, very happy, in the middle of her grief for the death of Gifford, but Mona was not his concern. He was suffering agonies over his indiscretion with Mona; well, one minute he was, and the next he had other things to think about. Like that two months had...
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- Spring '10