She could feel her face turning beet red. “I was in Paris four years ago,” Mr. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. . “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t.
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