Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. ” “But I can’t do that. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. He knew she was out there, he could feel it.
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