\" Michelle's mother replied from the front room in her sing-song tone. Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes.
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