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… One, two, Nana scoops flour, three, three and a half will do for now, pats white hands on aproned hips, claps the metal lid back over a hundred-pound bin, levels the flour down as she uses it by every pound, pound and a half that man threw over his shoulder, says never mind that mother of yours, she don't know what's good for herself never mind a sensible girl like you.

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