She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. ” “I won’t keep you very long, daddy,” said Ann Veronica. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray.
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