Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it.
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