She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. 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. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed.
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