Spurlock grew cold. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. More than half the city perished. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. She’s so embarrassed about it that she only wears one-piece swimsuits when she tans outside.
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