Woodrow, you're saying that we can't live together right away because of what the neighbors might think. And that was that, as I got this letter from a lawyer on my eighteenth birthday, just as Gramp had predicted, and it turned out that I fell madly in love with a girl on their list. And beautiful she was, Minerva. Should I call you 'Uncle'? Suit yourself.
Even that envelope I fetched to you. Details, dear. And that young man over there is, believe it or not, 'Galahad. Not just with it but with anything that shoots, cuts, burns, or even makes nasty bruises, from your bare hands to a blaster.
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