‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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