A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. Luck. Sebastian observed coolly, savoring the outline of Lucy’s feral figure hunching over Michelle’s gradually diminishing body. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man.
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