Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. ‘She’s still bleeding. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. I’m too young 117 for this to sound right. ‘I see that Leonardo was right. Luck. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray.
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