’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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