“Is that all you have to say?” Michelle challenged her. “Because I hate you!” She spat. “I couldn’t help it. “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head.
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