He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. 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. In an instant, she turned on him. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. In Larry’s old Cadillac sedan, she sat in the backseat as Larry drove and Cathy sat beside him.
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