CHAPTER II. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them. ” Ennison’s voice shook a little. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride.
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