I loathe this room. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. . My foster mom works there as a second job. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. She always left the table when they began to smoke. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy.
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