Give me this picture. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. “I can assure you that it was quite unnecessary. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. “No! No no no no no no no!” She ran towards them, her arms outstretched, but he blocked her. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate.
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