\"My parents. The Reverend Henry Dolby performed the cermony, and his wife and daughter were witnesses. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. ” “Perhaps I don’t. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. "Iss, Massa. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness.
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