Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. He had chosen his time well. How perfectly charming.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjIuMjQ4LjEzMiAtIDIzLTA3LTIwMjQgMDc6Mzk6MjggLSAxNTUzMzQxNTU5
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