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He had an enquiring mind. It was a curse. Even sometimes for a detective.
For perhaps the first time in her life she was wearying of the relentless drive required to keep their lives thrusting forward.
It felt as if a great weight had been removed from her, which it had, of course, because her mother was dead. Alleluia!
Life was for absorbing, not recording. And in the end, it was all just paper that someone would have to dispose of after you were gone.
Freda, who had had nothing but freedom, considered it to be an overrated concept.
