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179 pages, Paperback
First published April 28, 2017


My mother entered, pale with rage. “We were coming to seat ourselves at the table,” she said, “when the thing who was in your place rose and cried: ‘I smell a little strong, eh? Well, as for me, I do not eat cake.’ With these words she removed her face and ate it. A great leap and she disappeared out the window.”
How can anybody be a person of quality if they wash away their ghosts with common sense?
