’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him.
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