The Widow and her Child II. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. We were alike. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside.
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