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doc#145 | Sally Jackson and her folks in front |
doc#145 | and me and her folks aim to |
doc#140 | her mouth and her teeth were clenched |
doc#145 | <p> "Sally and her ma want to |
doc#137 | twirling it around her wrist and smiling |
doc#145 | pinched look around her mouth. " |
doc#140 | and twined around her ankles. It |
doc#140 | that writhed around her throat in ever |
doc#140 | the village as her ostensible destination. </p> |
doc#132 | as well as her subsequent anger at |
doc#142 | n't dare ask her father afterward. |
doc#132 | subsequent anger at her father for remarrying |
doc#135 | and dabbing at her eyes. </p><p> Mike |
doc#141 | slid in at her side, tucked |
doc#95 | sorely needed at her Portland home by |
doc#140 | and scratched at her slacks; tree |
doc#148 | enough to be her father; some |
doc#98 | -law became her lover after the |
doc#137 | and fallen behind her shoulders, held |
doc#145 | could not believe her own eyes. |