You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ” A sudden sense of the gravity of this thing came home to Anna. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. "Now—begin. \"Shouldn't you be in bed? You go into work at 5:30, I thought. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear.
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