"The Partial Writings of Zenobia Frome" essay based on: ETHAN FROME by Edith Wharton
She came home tired and satisfied. It was late; she washed, and got ready for bed. In her night clothes she tip-toed over to the china cabinet; reaching carefully behind the broken pickle dish and her father's old spectacle case filled with remedies...she caught herself. There was no one home this dim, cloudy night; it was not necessary for her to be careful. She was alone, and could do and write as she pleased. …
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…his wretched crippled dream to care for. Once the two of them are back at the farm; they will see each other day in and day out. They will see how disillusioned they were with each other, and how dependent they are on me for their care! And I will now tell them all that I feel, my silence will now be as broken as their bodies and my pickle-dish!
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