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Unformatted text preview: sten to the right people. Now, Richard, drive!" And ofl we went, with Richard steering wildly up St. Charles Ave- 367 nue, splattering mud and gravel, and finally running right up on the curb in his careless, amateurish way, on the corner of St. Charles and Amelia. "This I have to see for myself, this child in the attic," I mumbled. I was in a rage. "And I will throttle Cortland when next he dares to come into my presence." Stella helped me down from the car and then started jumping up and down with excitement. This was one of her more endearing or irritating habits, all depending on how one felt at the moment. "Look, Julien, darling," she cried. "Up there in the attic window."
Now you have no doubt seen this house. It stands today as solid as First Street. And of course I had seen it too, as I have said, but I never set foot in it. I was not even sure how many Mayfairs lived there. It was, for my money, a pompous Italianate house, very proud yet very beautiful. It was all wood, yet designed to look as if it were stone, like...
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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