\"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. I wished to control the weather, to possess infinite wealth, and to understand the substances of the earth. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year.
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