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Unformatted text preview: within the fold. Ten different lines of descent. That's what it means. You ought to be proud of it." Evenings, Ancient Evelyn sat on the porch of Amelia Street, knit- ting until it got too dark for her to see. Enjoying as she always had the drowsy twilight on St. Charles Avenue with so many people out stroll- ing, and the streetcars with their yellow lights on inside, crashing along the curving track. Dust, those were the days of noise and dust-before air-conditioning and wall-to-wall carpets, the days of helping take laun- dry stiff as paper off the back line. You could make people out of the little old clothespins-little wooden men wearing tiny hats. Yes, we had belonged to the old ones, Gifford thought. All Gifford's life, her mother had been ill, a recluse, suffering, and pacing the floor behind closed doors, and then dying when Gifford and Alicia were so young. But Gifford had a lingering fondness for that old way of life, or walking on the Avenue with Ancient Evelyn, who always had her Irish cane. Or reading t...
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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