‘Now let’s have it. “My God!” he said again. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. . At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist.
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