"Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. ” She made some inane response. ’ ‘I’m not going to release you, so it’s no use complaining. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. .
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