“It was inevitable,” he declared. When Capes glanced up at them for a moment, Manning seemed to be holding his arms all about her, and there was nothing but quiet acquiescence in her bearing. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs.
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