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. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. We’ll have Trodger check it out later. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. .
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