And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. She did not speak to John in the week of school left after the Prom. “You could have told me about it, Michelle. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked.
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