She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. No trouble will ever come to your sister through me. Let him be sure. Every minute I spend here is an education to me.
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