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Unformatted text preview: hampagne and talked about the wholesome side of things, and speculated about Mr. Lightner, who had not yet revealed his history to them. But Mona would not have been in the wedding at all if Ancient Evelyn had not risen from her chair to overrule Gifford. "Let the child walk up the aisle," she had said in her dry whisper. She was ninety-one years old now. And the great virtue of almost never speaking was that when Ancient Evelyn did, everybody stopped to listen. If she wasn't mumbling, that is. There were times when Mona hated Aunt Gifford for her fears and her worry, the constant look of dread on her face. But nobody could really hate Aunt Gifford. She was too good to everybody around her, especially to her sister, Alicia, Mona's mother, whom everyone re- garded as hopeless now that she'd been hospitalized three times for her drinking and it hadn't done any good. And every Sunday without fail, Gifford came to Amelia Street, to clean up a bit, sweep the walk, and sit with Ancient Evelyn. She brought dresses for Mona, who hated to go shopping. ^ "You know you ought to dress more like a tee...
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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