She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends.
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