He was picked up from amongst the wreckage of a broken motor on the road to Versailles last night, and we have information that a lady was with him only a few minutes before the accident occurred. She was furiously angry. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. As this seemed insufficient, after a lapse of five minutes, he added another hundred weight. E. Her hormones were raging stupidly. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside.
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