’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. The Dawn Pearl. He flipped the television off. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love.
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