And I want him out of uniform. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. "My child!" he groaned faintly. She felt very awkward as she stared at 103 the top of his ashen hair. He always followed by showering her with kisses, embracing her tightly as she squirmed and giggled. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. None presented themselves to save him from that return. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral.
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