She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. There was a hint of tears in her voice. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts.
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