“Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. ” “Why?” she asked. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. She stepped into his arms. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. "If so, it won't pay. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs.
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