She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. Wood fared still worse. ” “You’ll get them,” he said. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. It’s like this: You want freedom. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive.
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