“What can I do?” “Go and see her. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. We’ll make short work of them. Await me in the coach. But it is not entirely without hope, for perhaps they may find some succour with Charvill. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked.
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