Normally he went with Jake to every show, but some sixth sense told him he was going to be left behind tomorrow. ”“Why don’t you put her in the antiques fair then? I’m not having her upsetting Mrs. ”“All right, all right,” grumbled Jake, “I’m coming. ”“What a lovely age.
His language deteriorated. ”“Hush, pet, hush. He balanced it on the padded arms of the chair, which he’d pulled alongside the bed. “Hey, lay off,” howled Dino, hurling a cushion at the television set.
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