” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. . But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. “But your hair,” he gasped. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. Even your family. . ’ She stopped, her lips tightening. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair.
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