A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. "I was afraid it would be so. She’s a cheerleader, of course, but they say she has always been a second tier 38 cheerleader because she’s kind of big and hefty. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head. Not like my father. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Oddly, Sebastian chose to be charioteer.
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