” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. . Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “Endless.
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