” Lucy considered the irony that Michelle had spent seventeen years waiting to escape the suburban existence she had always longed to live. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. ” He paused for a time.
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