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. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ” Michelle streamed over to them as if on cue, her eyes not meeting Mike’s. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot.
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