” “Why do you think so?” she asked. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. It fell with a clatter to the floor. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said.
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