’ He bowed. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. She knew his appetite from many a homemade dinner and knew also that he had taken Bitch Vorsack’s comments to heart. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her.
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