She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. Jack was completely overcome. “I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. Sheila plucked it out of Lucy’s hamper with some of Lucy’s panties and brassieres, figuring that she’d help out because she was doing a load of whites anyway. Though he never seen so much of Miss Mary as I did. CHAPTER XVIII. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. She had behaved in every way perfectly. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills.
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