” “I had to,” she repeated. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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