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so the others can witness her newfound immaculacy.
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And next time, knock.
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Remind me of your name.
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Lana. Lana Winters.
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Can I ask what Shelly did?
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I assume you were punishing her for something.
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I assumed you were here to do a story on our bakery.
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Oh, believe me, no one loves that molasses bread more than I do.
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I toast it for my breakfast every single morning.
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Shelley was brought to us having been given
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the preposterous diagnosis by a psychiatrist
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comparing her to a wood nymph.