” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. " "What? Good Lord, he's alive with fleas! They'll be all over the place. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. "I am. \" Cathy poured her a glass. ” She said bitterly.
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