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Unformatted text preview: again, this being, standing by the window. I climbed out of bed, weak and con- fused by the pleasure I'd felt, and went towards it. I reached out to take its hand, which dangled at its side like a man's hand, and then it looked down at me and gave me its most tearful gaze and together we pushed the window netting aside and went out on the gallery. It seemed to me that it trembled in the light, that it vanished some three or four times only to reappear, and then it died away, leaving the air very warm behind it. I stood in the warmth and I heard its voice for the first time in my head, its private confiding voice: "I have broken my vow to Deborah." "Which was what?" I asked. "You do not even know who Deborah was, you miserable child of flesh and blood," it said, and went on with some hysterically funny pronouncement upon me that seemed made up of all the worst dog- gerel in the library. Mind you, I was nearly four by this time, and I couldn't claim to know poetry...
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- Spring '10