"I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. It had ceased to beat. Hell, my mom hates everyone, don’t take this personally, but she doesn’t like you very much and she isn’t shy about letting me know. A wrathful God was watching him. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage.
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