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She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. She advanced, stabbing at him. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water.
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