Mrs. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “Yes. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner.
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