“Some afternoon. Love lives on a higher plane. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. He backed away from her. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively.
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