She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. " "He's no such thing!" cried Mrs. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. “Where am I?” he muttered. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. And for many years, that was the way it was.
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