He pumped as she raised her legs obediently. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. ’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. My goodness gracious.
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