So this year, as was my custom, I thought I would go and call on Mary. I said to a friend of mine at the meeting one night, “I haven’t had the time as yet to go and see Mary. I think I’ll go tomorrow.” She said, “Haven’t you heard?” I said no. “Mary was killed last month. She [...] and there is no more metaphysical library.” It used to be called The Gateway. She and her husband had no children, married for 40-odd years and they went their separate ways. They made lots of money. Mary ran the bookstore, and he lived in a home in the country in Bucks County, where so many artists and writers live in Pennsylvania. So they would call each other if someone needed something. If she needed someone to go hunting for certain books, she’d call Bill and Bill would take the train in or ride in and do whatever Mary needed. She would occasionally go out to the house. So they never had any feeling they should call and really inquire. No reason for it, so they thought. So, many days went by and he called, he wanted some help, and there was no response. He called all through the day, both the shop and her home in the Village, on 18th Street, and there was no response. So he came on in, went to the home first, there was all the uncollected mail. The neighbors said, we haven’t seen Mary in five days. He went to the shop, right off Madison Ave. and 60th, and here uncollected mail, and they hadn’t seen Mary in five days. It appears that Mary, five days before, needed something from the grocery store and it was late. It was just at the end of the block. So she went out with just a little change purse and no identification at all, nothing on her but her little change purse. Stepped off the curb and a truck moving at tremendous speed…and she was gone instantly. So Bill went down to the police department and inquired about this missing wife of his. They said, “You know, have you tried the morgue?” He said, “I’m not talking about a dead wife, I’m telling you my wife is missing. She has been missing for five days.” The cop said to him, “After all, these things happen all day in New York City. You’ve just described a woman just like your wife and she’s at the morgue. Why don’t you go and look.” So Bill goes to the morgue and there’s Mary, unclaimed for five days.756 ¶5