"The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. “I do. “We won’t. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. He swore when I tried to get it out with the ladle, and told me what it said. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. "My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you.
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