She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. and Mrs. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. No more scuffling. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. “You left the TV on when you fell asleep in the living room, so I turned it off. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor.
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