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The rules, such as they are... )
Comments 4
For Heather, therefore, the Beauvoir suitcase always felt vaguely contraband. After the first day she had locked the bedroom door and let her sister examine the contents. Ruth had come from tea with Vic; Heather had been half-anticipating a slew of gossip, but instead she was quiet almost to reverence. Her fingers marched staccato over the upturned brushes, sounding them out.
"Show me?"
Heather took up a jar of rouge, and got to work.
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