” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece. If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. ” “You see I do. But he has never been near her—never. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door.
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