I guess she used to pick on her for being big and fat. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. . . “I say, daddy,” she began, and was suddenly short of breath. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. I waited until he was asleep and then I tied him up with some duct tape and some old rope he had in the shed. She doesn't understand; she believes he has taken a sudden dislike to her. I haven't forgotten her previous history.
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