“She can’t. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. The evenings were dulcet and soft. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. I can’t forget about your sister. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations.
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