And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. You’ve got me. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. She had been so young then. A riding-habit is all I have seen.
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