The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. It was still possible the child might be in safety. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. That is the age when Sebastianus took me for his bride. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. I'm an old hand at such things. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. A.
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