To an interviewer in Manhattan, Pulitzer Prize-Winning Novelist Ellen Glasgow, ill last summer, disclosed that she believed she had been dead. Her account: "The doctor had his fingers on my pulse. He said, 'She's gone,' to my sister. And I was gone. I was dead. . . . It was like being taken up and carried, like being enveloped in a great, surging, slow tideĀand it was bliss. A slow tide."
How It Should Be
Mrs. Oliver Harriman, onetime society leader in Manhattan, living now in a two-room hotel apartment, brought out a 72-chapter,...
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