There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the playthings lying about, and sometimes, for no reason whatever, she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away in cupboards.
Being able to spell is a subability of being able to write.
Elk slackened the rope so he could walk farther away, and together they went awkwardly up the trail toward the grassy little flat[…]
Crash us a cancer stick, Fitz: I could bloody murder a fag, as I delight in telling Americans
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