The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. . “I’m not in the mood right this instant. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless.
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