At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. I know the Dutch. We'll have some fun down there at my place, Spurlock; but we'll probably bore your wife to death.
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