So I elected not to swim, but to sunbathe some distance away from her. I did, however, come close enough to say, “Hello.” This was her curious reply: “Tell me how your parents died.” What a spooky woman! She could be a witch. Who but a witch could have persuaded me to write my autobiography? She has just stuck her head in the room to say that it was time I went to New York City, where I haven’t been since Edith died. I’ve hardly been out of this house since Edith died. New York City, here I come. This is terrible!
