“Do you mind if I tweeze your eyebrows?” Shari asked her. His grip twisted her wrist. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes.
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