There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. “I doubted my luck, at least. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere.
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