Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. I am a little afraid. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. She came into the room. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. I loved her so much.
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