The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. They had not to tarry long.
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