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Show -108 THREE "And now here I am with Morgan," I said. She stood at the other end of the deck, talking with Carlo. Her hair was in pigtails and she leaned on the rail with one elbow, her hips cocked to one side, knees bare; she looked like a cross between a girl of fashion and a semi-tough twelve year old. "She's pretty," Jacob said. "She is, but that's the least of it," I said. Morgan could drive a truck, build bookshelves, sew a shirt, play the piano, explain a page of Finnegan's Wake, bake a cake from scratch and on occasion even act like a lady. She was a liar, petty over small matters, vain about her face and body, quarrelsome, moody, intransigeant, |