Lucy sized up the girl. “Every one. I have very few friends in Paris. She let him take off her skirt as she ritualistically removed his jeans along with his boxers. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. She had come to the end of her resources.
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