“Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time. No— no, it must never be. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. “Glaciers?” she said. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. He was in the house with his mother.
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