One of those leaving, me, will be a corpse to be delivered to Emily. ‘Oh, Emily!’ I say aloud. ‘I love you, Emily. I want you here, for one last...kiss.’ But there would be no last kiss, not even a loving word. Emily’s last words to me, calling me an antique bore, still stick in my brain. Would she regret those words when I was dead? I’ll never know. Captain Arthur is here. I pick up my gloves and cane to leave with him. I’m not leaving a note for Emily. What’s the point? Unkind people will tell. Getting back to Charlotte Morgan's skirt and what she was hiding underneath it, I find it necessary to describe her to you the reading audience with unbiased honesty. I know, you are quite right, it would be impossible for me to be completely unbiased because I was at that time so thoroughly obsessed with her that even had dreams of groveling at her feet and kissing her red-painted toes.In 1944, the city of New York was a safe haven unlike the unfortunate London that was the primary target of. More

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