” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. It was horrible, but she must do it.
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