She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. I want you. The door leaned inward. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. And yet the moment I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all on my reputation. You heard her. I do forgive him; but he will never know now. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. Or run me through.
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