Being Yours
tell us,' Paul corrected himself with a glance at Amy, 'who you were with?
'Yes I bloody can!' Sarah leapt from her grandmother chair and shot out of the room, her pony-tail following like a comet's tail. She returned in seconds waving a brown-covered, much-thumbed professional diary which she opened to the appropriate date. She thrust it at Paul and plumped down again in her seat.
'I was on house calls all afternoon,' she informed him. 'They're all written down there, names, addresses, animals . . .' She broke off in a new bout of wondering, outraged innocence. 'The nerve of it, to suggest Vd steal a car.'
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