The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. "This suspense is worse than torture. ’ You used to declare that you hated the name. I do, however. “I SAY!” said Mr. Disperse in every direction. “He is not—I don’t like him. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly.
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