At this juncture, the door was opened by Rachel. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Life waits for us. It has something to do with the fact that my Mom had them when she was only seventeen.
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