She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. She turned her head to each side. He did not stagger in the least. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. One is always familiar with the business of one’s neighbours. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets. An ugly flush stained his cheeks.
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