She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal.
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