gutenberg. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. Spurling, drily. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded.
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