She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. "I read those stories. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. We shall see. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his.
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