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Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. As Melusine approached the door, she saw Kimble speed up. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. John stared palely. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty.
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