"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. ” He sat down on her left side and put his hand on her knee, gesturing with his other hand. ” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders.
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