Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. Both of them. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Ed. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin.
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