" "By the way, did you read those stories?" "Yes. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. “Everything will follow,” she said. 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. ’ ‘All the way to England?’ She opened wide eyes. ‘Exactly like my father. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled.
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