The couple reappeared from behind the curtains, both visibly shaken. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. Quick, now. Sheila decided to do a little laundry one day, clothes that were in Lucy’s hamper, a dirty clothes bin that Lucy had insisted that she have for herself separate from the family one. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. Presently. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. Suddenly he stopped short.
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