” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. She gloried in it: he needed her. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression.
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