My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. ’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. “I will make of the days and weeks one long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. “Will you help me?” he asked. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath.
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