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Michael Malone - Weebly

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That was rotten of me. I didn't mean it. Mommy. I<br />

didn't even know what I was saying." She rocked her<br />

mother back and forth. "Mommy. Please. Please. I'm<br />

sorry."<br />

Mrs. Ransom pulled back. Her nose was running. It<br />

was a sight so painful to Kate that she stepped away as<br />

her mother took from her jacket pocket a handkerchief<br />

monogrammed PHR and squeezed it to her nose. "You<br />

see," Priss said, "sometimes…" She blotted her eyes.<br />

"Sometimes anachronisms prove convenient." She<br />

waved the handkerchief. Kate smiled. Mrs. Ransom<br />

stood up and adjusted her turban in the mirror. "Even<br />

Gloria Steinem must have to blow her g.d. nose.<br />

Of course, perhaps she uses her hair."<br />

"Oh, Mother! You always joke."<br />

"Darling, if I didn't, I'd slit my throat. And then<br />

where would you be? You'd have to watch the<br />

inexcusably wide Wide World of Sports with your<br />

father."<br />

"The thrill of victory." Kate grinned, relieved. "The<br />

agony of defeat."<br />

"Frankly," sighed Mrs. Ransom as she freshened

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