” “It’s gone. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. 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. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Ramage back his forty pounds. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest.
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