I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Until the last few months. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. Morality is a point of view. This time you cannot. E. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair.
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