’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Michelle’s eyes widened. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. What a pig she was. ’ ‘Leonardo?’ An abrupt sensation of severe irritation attacked Gerald. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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