The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. Take it, if I die. I was certain of it. So I've grown hard—outside. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright.
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