Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. \" Cathy poured her a glass. " "What for?" demanded the turnkey.
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