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’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. ” For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated. I know my son's voice too well. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. ‘Where was I? Oh yes.
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