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He was there or was not there: not there if I didn’t see him.
“Too free with MY boy?”
a figure of quite as unmistakable horror and evil: a woman in black,
“wonderfully handsome. But infamous.”
The presence on the lawn — I felt sick as I made it out — was poor little Miles himself.
“At midnight. When I’m bad I AM bad!”
How can I retrace today the strange steps of my obsession?
