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Unformatted text preview: ing this vision to torment me. But why? I knew. I laid my head down on the desk and wept. Withiyhan hour Mary Beth came in with the news from America. Victor h^^pen killed two weeks ago in an accident. He had stepped off the curbat Prytania and Philip and been run down, right outside the apothecary. Two days later he had died, calling for me. "We had better go home," she said. "I will not!" I declared. "Lasher has done this." "He would not." "Oh, hell yes he would and he did." I was in a rage. I locked myself W in my bedroom on the third floor of the palazzo. I had only a view of the narrow calle below. I paced in a fury. "Come to me," I said. "Come!" And finally he did, once again tricked out as a brittle, shiny smiling cutout of my Victor. "Laughter, Julien. I would go home now." I turned my back on the vision. He made the draperies blow, the floors rattle. It seemed he made the deep stone walls rumble. At last I opened my eyes. "I would not be here!" he declared. &quo...
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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