“My dear papa!” duetted the girls; but there was something in the husband and father's face, that told the three ladies it would be worse than useless to raise that question at present.
Honey, I'm home.
Those mechanical colored pencils work great because they don't have to be sharpened.
Christopher's textbook of surgery, the notes of information, sickass drawings, and Rembrandt gifts—all out in the open as if to say fuck you.
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