She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. ’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. 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. Her lover surely did not 223 understand the implications of what he had asked for and his lust blinded him to the realities of existence even now.
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