The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Claire-Louise Bennett Reads Maeve Brennan

The New Yorker: Fiction

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She Walked in Straight Lines

When Hubert first saw Rose, he thought how light and definite her walk was. He never learned that the courage she showed came not from natural hope or from natural confidence but from her journey to life. Between these two sharp edges, she made her way as well as she could. Because it vanishes without warning. She might as well have been in a net for all the freedom she felt. In the early days of their marriage, Hubert and Rose lived in two rooms at the top of the house on Somerville Street off Stevens Green. The first evening they walked in there together was the evening of their wedding day. It was also the occasion of Rose's first journey in a train

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