But one must disguise oneself. ” “How delightful!” exclaimed Anna. ” He beamed upon her. My Mom’s stomach has a lot of bad scars that make it look all ropy and weird. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books.
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