“I wouldn’t make this objection,” Mr. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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