Burn your palette and your easel. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. God, we suck. I need not counsel you to avoid those fatal courses which have placed you in such fearful jeopardy. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. CHAPTER XVIII.
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