" "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. ” She said, rubbing Lucy’s back. Buck up.
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