“Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination. ” Sheila snarled. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. “It rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place never seemed dull.
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