” Lucy rubbed Michelle on the shoulder. ‘Jacques?’ she called. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. “And you brought her a man, I presume. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium.
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