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Unformatted text preview: "He's dead, Monsieur. Your sister begs you to come!" What could I do? I had never set foot in that First Street house since it had been completed. I did not even know poor little Clay or Vincent by sight! I had not seen my sister in a year, except to argue with her once in a public street. Suddenly all my riches and my pleasures seemed nothing to me. My sister was begging me to come. LASHER I had to go and I had to forgive her. "Lasher, what do I do?" "You will see," he said. "But there is no female to carry on the line! She will wither as a widow behind closed doors. You know it. I know it." "You will see," he said again. "Go to her." The whole family held its breath. What will happen? I went to the First Street house. It was a rainy night, very hot and simmering, and in the Irish slums only blocks away, the bodies of fever victims were stacked in the gutters. A stench wafted on the breeze from the river. But there stood this house as it always has, majest...
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- Spring '10