You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. She thought Alice a bit of a sneak, an opinion her brothers shared, and Gwen rather a snatch at meals. “You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. There was another little thing he had to say.
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