” Lucy considered the irony that Michelle had spent seventeen years waiting to escape the suburban existence she had always longed to live. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. Our ideal had fallen. Your husband could have told you that. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle.
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