At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. Wood in a sharp tone. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. ‘Which presupposes that she needs to hide at all. He could think about it later. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. They rose as she approached. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. 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.
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