She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid; begging Mrs. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. “Dear husband,” she murmured. I hate to see you spoil yourself with guys like me. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself.
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