‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. I sent a message straight. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. " "So am I. “I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am.
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