“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll.
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