Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. Brendon was silent. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. A father is in debt, we'll say. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness.
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