I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. Wood, disdainfully. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. ‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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