All mutterings and sly glances would be directed at Mam and her abandonedness, completely bypassing say, the maroon wool/polyester-mix topcoat that Mrs. Parsons might have bought at a whopping seventy-five percent off.
Misery and a nameless nostalgic distress possessed him. He was twenty-three, and oh! so agonizingly conscious of the fact.
... proposals for erecting 500 Publick Offices of Ease in London and Westminster...
Kerr's clipbooks then, such as Journey to the Center of the Theater, tend to be made up of more enduring, less ephemeral pieces. Wicker found that his pieces were so time bound that he was unable to collect them into a clipbook […]
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