"As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. “Dear John,” she whispered. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. The doctor's lessons, perhaps delivered with too much serious emphasis, had destroyed that buoyant confidence in her ability to take care of herself. ‘In fact, I’ve never met anyone who goaded me to so much violence. . I'll send for Wu Fang.
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