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Unformatted text preview: fford, that she had gone and taken those things and hidden them back up at First Street, in that house whence they'd come. "You little fool, how could you do such a thing?" Ancient Evelyn had asked. "Mona should have had it! Mona is his great-granddaughter! Gifford, not back to that house where Carlotta will find it, where it will be destroyed." She remembered suddenly. Gifford had died this morning! She was walking on St. Charles Avenue, going up to First Street, and her aggravating, annoying, grating, nerve-wracking grandchild was dead! "Why didn't I know it? Julien, why didn't you come to tell me!" Well over half a century ago, she'd heard Julien's voice an hour before his death. She'd heard him calling from beneath her window. She'd sprung up and opened it wide to the rain, and there was Julien down there, only at once she knew it wasn't really Julien. She'd been terrified he was already dead. He had waved at her, so cheerful and gay, with a big dark mare beside him....
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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