On Christmas Eve I was the only girl left in Augsta House. Even Mary Aboot's family had scraped together the money to bring her home. Mainly, the girls that stayed were scholarship girls. And then girls who made various excuses: their family was traveling this year; it was too long a trip for too short a time. I hade made that excuse, exactly, and for me it seemed at least a little bit conceavable: Emathla Florida, was very far away[..].
The night bell had rung hours ago, but I couldn't fall asleep. It hadn't even been a question in my mind, whether or not I would return home for the holidays; of course I wouldn't. We had sung carols at the Castle tonight, trimmed a giant tree. I had been spared an inquisition by the Holmes girls, because everyone who had not gone home sat together, at a large table; the Holmses sat at the opposite end from me. Decca had found her way onto my lap by the end of the dinner, but she was too young to care why I had not left.
Det är depression i amerikanska Appalacherna i denna julscen, utgiven i somras. På bokens omslag finns en blurb av en författare som redan dykt upp i årets adventsquiz. Vem då?
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