(1980 memoirs)
But I kept the Ripon Memory Book, and one fine day after I was married a while, I burned the whole she-bang in our coal furnace in the utility room [on Beaumont Avenue]. All the things in this book suddenly became very trivial and unimportant. More and more I felt how silly I'd feel if anyone read it, especially Lorin. I felt silly myself. Whatever prompted me to spend time on it?
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