“Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. ‘Poor Hilary. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Mike chimed in. Michelle blinked rapidly and Lucy could hear her heart speeding up.
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