Miss inter died and t falling. ood ime at tcion of t sky. teration in teness told us it o bed.

    I a ternoon.

    t eleped  separated us from t of tively as a prison key. Miss inter o as Emmeline, and rapped.

    t less. It  put ;  like t from one o anot ly at Judits restoration ter t, if iced it at all, left ally undisturbed.

    to a sideension of time, and urbable, made vegetable soup, cleaned tc and,  and tivity, played endless games of solitaire, but o distract terness.

    As for me, I spent ting up my final notes, but  settle to reading. Even S reac an rying to name   in it. I realized t I missed Miss inter. So, o tco play cards ea er let Judith file and polish my own nails.

    In t sat out to linger on past its time.

    On to be overcome by a vast sorrow.

    I aire at table. e o t onto t of t  drift so  into teness and  at bay for years by means of books and bookcases approacered by a tall o a sorro self, and as untainted. I cried for Miss inter, for , for Adeline and Emmeline. For my sister, my motly, and most terribly, I cried for myself. My grief  of t, nein, making sudden, sting crying on a bencory lighe snow.

    o myself Dr. Clifton  an arm around me. “I know,” he said. “I know.”

    kno really. And yet t s, o us all. “I know,” herefore, in a way, he did.

    o h.

    ‘Oh. ”Shall I bring cocoa?“

    ‘itouc, I think,“ he said.

    Maurice pulled out a co stoke the fire.

    I sipped tor  it or.

    Judituck