
Margaret Atwood Reads Alice Munro
The New Yorker: Fiction
Daddy Loves You, Miss. Unmannerly
She seemed both bold and childish. At first a man might be intrigued by her, but then her forwardness, herself satisfaction, if that is what it was, would become tiresome. He drove to her town for an unnecessary inspection of the church steeple, knowing that she had to be back from the pyramids, but not knowing whether she would be at home, or off on some other jaunt. Her father had suffered a stroke. There was not really much for her to do. A nurse came in every other day, and a girl named Sadie Wolf was in charge of the fires which were always lit when Howard arrived. Corey couldn't drive a built-up car,
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