“I don’t understand. Meet me. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. ‘But you are idiot. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house.
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