He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. " Her ear caught much of the lesson, and many things she stored away; but often what she heard was sound without sense. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said.
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