“You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. God, we suck.
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