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Unformatted text preview: n every brick and every bit of mortar; thirteen witches; and to think, all those old posses- sions of Julien's were up in the attic. The evil lived in those things; it lived in the plaster ceilings, and under the porches and eaves, like bees' nests hidden in the capitals of the Corinthian columns. That house had no hope, no future. And Gifford had known it all her life. She hadn't needed these Talamasca scholars from Amsterdam to tell her. She knew. She'd known it when she'd first gone to First Street-a little girl with her beloved grandmother Ancient Evelyn, who was even then called Ancient because she was already old, and there were several young Evelyns then-one married to Charles Mayfair and another to Bryce-though whatever became of them, she couldn't now remember. She and Ancient Evelyn had gone to First Street, to visit Aunt Carl and poor doomed Deirdre Mayfair, the heiress in her rocking-chair throne. Gifford had seen the famous ghost of First Street-clearly and distinctly-a male figure standing behind...
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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