Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad.
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