” He followed up a line of thought. “It was fine and brave of you. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours.
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