Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ’ ‘So that was it. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. . I have heard of you from my husband. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. She seemed to grow more beautiful to him and not the opposite.
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