You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. “I mean to,” she replied. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. Do you know what? You're some sea goddess and you're only fooling us. It’s just upon my lunch-time.
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