Ms. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. She painted on the Root Beer Lip Smackers lip gloss that Shari had bought her last Christmas and rouged her cheeks as she had long ago as she once had for Sebastian. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms.
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