” Tears flowed down her face. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. Doctor Ralph looked kind and large, and listened to Alice’s responses as though he was listening to symptoms and thought that on the whole she was progressing favorably. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. ’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. “I will not intrude upon you further.
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