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’ Dieu du ciel, but she was a fool. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. "We must keep still. I did not lay any traps for her. But she must not laugh. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water.
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