“Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. Her education was remarkable in that it was overdeveloped here and underdeveloped there: the woman of thirty and the child of ten were always getting in each other's way. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. The man was my husband.
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