97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit.
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