Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She could tell that he was leering at her. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. Profligate women are never reclaimed.
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