I have no intention of arresting you. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. I get along with my Mom sometimes, Lucy.
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