‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. \" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts. “It’s fine, Michelle. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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