Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. “You have the temperament,” he said. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail.
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