He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. ’ Hilary stared at him. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. It was horrible, but she must do it. “You poor little girl!” he cried. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. Skiing trip.
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