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The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. G'night, kids. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug.
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