. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. And while her son was reconveyed to prison the body of the unfortunate Mrs. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. It worked. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform.
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