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Unformatted text preview: was going to be there. "Listen to me, Eugenia, there's something real important you gotta do," he said. "Go upstairs to my room. There's an old Victrola on the floor. Wind it and start the record. OK?" "Now? At this hour of the night? For what?" "Just do it. Tell you what. Bring it down to the parlor. That will make it easier. Oh, never mind, you can't carry it. Just go up there, and play that record a few times and then go to bed." "Your wife is found, your wife is alive, and you're headed to the hospital to see her, and you don't know whether she's all right or been hit in the head or what, and you're telling me to go play a phonograph record." "Right. You got it all exactly right." There was the car, a great dark fish sliding beneath the oaks. He hurried down the steps, turning quickly to Eugenia: "Do it!" he said, and went out. "The point is, she is alive." He climbed into the backseat of the limo. "Take off." He slammed the door. "She is alive, and if she is alive, she'll...
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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