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[colored_gowns]

When Mrs Strange was a child, there were apple trees near her home. She has very distinct memories of climbing them when she was small and retrieving the apples-- now, as a grown woman with, she certainly hopes, some degree of dignity, that seems a bit excessive. But the little patch of apple trees seem to have done quite well, and Mrs Strange would be only too happy to have company in picking what fruit she can reach, and retrieving from the ground that which is not yet too spoiled.

Typist: I'm not dead, I swear.