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Unformatted text preview: hat's why she drank. Most Mayfairs didn't. Ryan, Gifford's husband, didn't. In his refusal to believe in anything supernatural or inherently evil, he was as unrealistic as an old voodoo queen who sees spirits everywhere. But Mona had a mind. Even when she called Gifford last year to announce that she, Mona Mayfair, was no longer a virgin, and that the actual moment of deflowering had been unimportant but the change in her outlook was the most important thing in the world, she had made it a point to add: "I'm taking the pill, Aunt Gifford; and I have an agenda. It has to do with discovery, experience, drinking from the cup, you know, all the things Ancient Evelyn used to say. But I am very health-conscious." "Do you know right from wrong, Mona?" Gifford had asked, over- whelmed, and in her deep secret heart even a little envious. Gifford had already begun to cry. "Yes, I do, Aunt Gifford, and you know I do. And for the record, I've made the Honor Roll again. I just cleaned up the house. And I managed to make Mom and Dad...
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- Spring '10