Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. " "I do remember it, Sir," replied Mrs.
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