er to be somuch nonsense; it was her father who lay there, herbrilliant, loving, inspiring, demanding, wonderfully imperfectfather. An hour later, as she lay limp with exhaustion on the bed,he sat beside her, playing with a lock of her hair, sippingthoughtfully at a glass of orange juice. 'Octavia got out. And givehim the most horrible time possible.
Having an abortion, getting rid of ababy. It was horribly and hideously allwrong. 'You're on. 'Leave it to me, I'll talk to him.
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