They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. These were yarns! As he was about to slip the manuscripts into the envelope, something caught his eye: by Howard Spurlock. Rules are for established things, like the pieces and positions of a game.
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