He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see.
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