After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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