“Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. That is all I ask. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. And yet it was basically a fine action. Published by Elizabeth Bailey 2012 www.
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