Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. She came into the room. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. They showered together.
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