E. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. "Devilish nice ham you've got here!—capital pie!—and, as I live, a flask of excellent canary. She is more dear to me than anything else. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. He grew even harder. Wait a second. ‘How fascinating. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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