“I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. Lucy could smell that Michelle was the body type that easily became cancerous, and fast. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her.
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