"Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. Go back at once, please. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. She felt sickeningly empty. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room.
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