I always say that it’s poverty before everything that makes a girl skip the line. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. “I can survive on my own. But it was very hard to follow. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Leaving the panel wide, Melusine dashed to the library door and flung it open, racing into the hall.
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