Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. Do you think she does?” Ann Veronica picked among her salad with a judicial expression of face. My mother really wants to meet you.
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