” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. They mean something. Be seated, and calm yourself. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. There you will be, in an inner temple. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room.
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