For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees.
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