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“So how should she dress?” he asked, his eyes on her worn jeans.
“I want her to express herself. If she’s in a happy mood, I want her to be able to pull on something bright and cheerful. If she’s feeling down, I want her to express that, instead of becoming so frustrated she blows out of control and tantrums.”
A timid knock interrupted.
“Are you mad at me for cutting my dress, Davy?” Darla peeked around the door, her big brown eyes soulful as a puppy’s. “I’m sorry.”
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