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CHAPTER VIII. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. ‘Lucy, do not say that you have told everyone all that I have done?’ ‘Well, yes, but—’ Consternation filled Melusine’s breast. ” “You have nothing to tell me?” “Nothing!” So Annabel departed with the slightest of farewells, wearing a thick travelling veil, and sitting far back in the corner of a closed carriage. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes.
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