" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. Mr. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Fiercely defensive, as usual. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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