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She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. Pardon what I have said, Madam. I——” The door was thrown open. But here she met with a check. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t. “Certainly I was a little way off at the café, and she had a hat and veil on, but I could have sworn that it was ‘Alcide.
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