He was angry. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. But, after all, what does that matter? He is very much taken with me. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons.
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