![]() ![]() “No,” I said sharply, “I’m not going to use bluing at my time of life, or starch, either.” I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off. ![]() I have turned very gray–Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. As it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. When I look back over the months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable for twenty years I had had the window- boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brown linen for as many summers I had said good-by to my friends, and, after watching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supply does not depend on a tank on the roof.Īnd then–the madness seized me. This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous. ![]() THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE by MARY ROBERTS RINEHART ![]()
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