896

Tonight, I met the woman so ardently interested in my Tate painting; a very thinly disguised Amanda Harris.  Either her or a “granddaughter” (as she claimed). However, every time I baited the hook with references to Tate portraits or Quentin Collins, she bit like a starving piranha.  Why she would lie to me is baffling, but far more time has passed for her than I since we last saw one another.

JHMD

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