I do wish you could come and dine with us some evening. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. “I don’t think she will,” she said. 176 “No, it’s very good.
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