She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. ‘She wants you. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. ” There was a shout of laughter. “Where have you been, young lady? I know your kind, I know you sneak out every night! How long do you think it could go on? You little murdering slut! Whore! I found you out, found your blouse! Evidence! How many of your johns have you killed why you have lived at my house? Huh? They’re going to put you away for a long time, honey. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Then for a time she sat very still. And then she would find work. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities.
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