1 result for (book:tps7 AND heading:"the fred conyer stori sunday octob 17 1982" AND stemmed:him)
15/28 (54%)
Fred
police
Denver
coat
Pittsburgh
Displaying only most relevant fragments—original results reproduced too much of the copyrighted work.
[...] I had instant visions of him wandering away, not really meaning to, but perhaps getting lost—and wearing my best coat. [...] “I had to go to the bathroom,” he said, tightening the coat around him. [...] I told him I’d called the police, and he nodded. [...] I told him I knew that. [...]
[...] I kept wondering if he had some money and change (at least) stowed in one of the suitcases, but he swore—Seth swore for him—that he did not, and finally I believed him. I also believed him when he finally sat down in the driveway and said he was prepared to die in the cold. [...] “Maybe the police will just let him go and he’ll come back.” [...]
Fred Conyers stayed on my mind through the rest of the day, after I’d waved to him as the policeman backed out of the driveway and headed down the hill. [...] Even in his drastic situation, I thought at the time, our society in some fashion had a way to take care of him, hopefully. But would society—could it—transport him all the way home to Denver, were he telling the truth about his origins? [...]
[...] Too bad she missed him, for as I told her, he’d make beautiful subject matter for a chapter, by inference. [...] At no time did I feel fear, but at the same time I didn’t want him in the house, where problems might develop getting him out.... [...]
[...] This, after Fred comprehended that I had no intention of letting him in the house. Jane could not deal with him, I thought, although he showed no signs of violence. [...]
[...] It was just that no matter what one said to him, he replied in the same reasonable, well-spoken, well-mannered tone of voice, which was quite pleasant. It was only after listening to him for a bit that one came to realize that something was amiss here, that Fred lived in his own world, which was a mixture of fact and fantasy. [...]
[...] A fat brown suitcase and an attaché case were on the ramp beside him. [...]
[...] He nodded sympathetically when I told him Jane was quite ill and couldn’t see anybody. [...]
[...] I didn’t open it, and still haven’t. When I asked him where he was really from, he said Denver, and that his address was inside the package. [...]
[...] When I asked him again what he would do if he didn’t get into our place, he said, “Why, I think Fred will die. [...]