The Help 8.9分
读书笔记 第62页

I used to walk that hot mile myself,when I was a girl.If I begged and practiced my catechism,Mother would sometimes let me go home with Constantine on Friday afternoons.After twenty minutes of walking slow,we'd pass the colored five-and-dime store, then a grocer with hans laying in the back,and all along the way, dozens of shacky-looking roadside houses with tin roofs and slanting proches, along with a yellow that everybody said sold whiskey from the back door.It was a thrill to be in such a different world and I'd feel prickly awareness of how good my shoes were,how clean my white pinafore dress that Constantine had ironed for me.The closer we got to Constantine's house, the more she'd smile.

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