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... really her?
The words Russell Yates said felt like a venomous snake, slipping unexpectedly into Jack Yates’s heart, coiling and biting deep inside.
Jack Yates irritably lit a cigarette, looking through the smoke at Renee Winslow, who was sitting on the bench.
In the bright autumn sun, the girl’s fair face blushed with a tint that no rouge could imitate.
The delicate young girl looked at him with her clear, bright eyes and gave him a soft, obedient smile.
J ...
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