" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. ToC Mrs. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying?. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad.
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