Unformatted text preview: w what she is. It's an old custom." "It means nothing." But I was talking to the air. Mary Beth was in her prime. I was dying. Ah, that night I lay in bed, unable to shake the vision of the little girl with those worthless dolls, thinking how to separate the real from the unreal and give Stella some warning of how it might go wrong with this devil. What worked against me as well was the dour nature of Carlotta. Carlotta warned and so did I. And Stella listened to neither of us! Finally I slept, deep and sound, and during the night dreamed again of Donnelaith and the Cathedral. When I awoke, it was to a dreadful discovery. But I did not make it immediately. I sat up in bed, drank my chocolate, read for a while, some Shake- speare, I think, for one of my boys had pointed out to me not long before that I had never read one of the plays, ah yes. The Tempest. In any account, I read some of it and loved it and found it deep as the tragedies were deep, only with a different rhythm and rules to it. Then came tim...
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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