” Mrs. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. Do you understand?’ ‘Aye, sir. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly.
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