What a Piece of Work I Am, Chapter 61 begins: SHE GLANCED AT HER WATCH, took a deep breath, and, with a particularly mischievous twinkle in her eye, said, “A few nights ago, I walked into my living room—from the kitchen, carrying a drink—some scotch, on the rocks, in a low glass—and stood for a moment, looking at the phone, trying to decide whether or not to make a call—
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773: She glanced . . .
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What a Piece of Work I Am, Chapter 61 begins: SHE GLANCED AT HER WATCH, took a deep breath, and, with a particularly mischievous twinkle in her eye, said, “A few nights ago, I walked into my living room—from the kitchen, carrying a drink—some scotch, on the rocks, in a low glass—and stood for a moment, looking at the phone, trying to decide whether or not to make a call—