The father was a madman. The moviegoers exited the cinema in the customary daze that resulted from two hours of sensory bombardment. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. I know in Paris you pinched and scraped that your sister might have the dresses and entertainments she desired. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. “Of course!” he said. I would not have him know—now—for the world.
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