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“I tell my Mom everything. ’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. “In private. He sent me home. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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