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After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. ‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. .
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