He kissed her lightly on the lips. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Lost in thought, Lucy barely heard Mrs. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. 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.
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