He found itdifficult to show affection. But I still loved him. I was so very sorrythat the last time I saw him was a time when I had made him so verya...gry with me.Just then a nurse came into the room. 'Hello Peter, feeling a bitbetter?''Yes thank you.' I sniffed 'When can I go home?''I think that Mrs Lambert will be picking you up this morning if thedoctor says it's okay for you to be discharged. Are you hungry?''A bit. Who is Mrs Lambert?''She was the lady who was with you yesterday.' That. We returned to the East Village. In a Fourteenth Street tenement we walked up the noisy wooden steps and the princess knocked on a door. "Just a second," came from beyond it. The voice sounded rough and slovenly like an old drunk bum. The door finally opened. The young poet looked gaunt. "Oh hi." he said, returning to the yellowed unmade bed.After introducing my sister, the princess asked, "How's the writing going?" Fine," he said with a half grin. He didn't resemble the young poet we knew.. More

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