Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. It's never a bad day that has a good ending. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room.
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