" "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. Michelle moaned and whined, and Diane resigned herself to 11:00. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way.
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