She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night.
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