’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. Wood, disdainfully.
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