’ ‘Dear me. ” Michelle paused awkwardly and pulled out a new Kleenex for her runny nose. The evenings were dulcet and soft. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. I am quite indiscriminate, I assure you. ‘And I am delighted to see that you are ready to admit that the Charvills—or rather the Valades—are indeed your affair. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money.
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