She confronted him with his own double-standard. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now.
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