Subject: Prince Harry upset over this story: Is the wedding off?

From: "David Charron" <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 15 Jan 2018 16:20:38 -0500

CNN - UNDER FIRE
Meghan Markle

In May she is expected to marry Prince Harry, however things might have changed

This latest news about the beautiful brunett secretly launching a skin care company last year 
has everyone in shock.  She has netted an extreme fortune

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This might just ruin the weddding
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needle-work, murders, hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island or they are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing, especially as nothing will stand still. Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. Johns, for instance, had a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting, while Michael, who was very

oddly cocky appearance. Yes, he is rather cocky, Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother had been questioning her. But who is he, my pet? He is Peter Pan, you know, mother. At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when  died he went

part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she was married and full of sense she quite doubted whether there was any such person. Besides, she said to Wendy, he would be grown up by this time. Oh no, he isnt grown up, Wendy assured her confidently, and he is just my size. She meant that he was her size in both mind and body; she didnt know how she knew, she just knew it. Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled pooh-pooh. Mark my words, he said, it is some nonsense Nana has been putting into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have. Leave

said Wendy lightly. She was in a hurry to get her breakfast. Oh, surely she must have been dreaming. But, on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darling examined them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled about the floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot. She rattled the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let down a tape from the window to the pavement, and it was a sheer