The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. ” She paused. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. And I, I am happy to say, am in the delightful position of being in the know.
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