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” He cried traitorously. This whole affair is truly my fault. \" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. —BRENDON.
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