A curious silence ensued. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Leave Martin Chen and his family alone. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. They had changed identities absolutely.
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