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Wysłany: Czw 22:47, 10 Mar 2011
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Charles Stanhope, Sr., was a stern-looking man in his middle sixties. He looked like a successful man; he was the projection of what his son would be like in thirty years. He had brown eyes,
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, like Charles's, a firm chin, a fringe of white hair, and Tracy loved him instantly. He was the perfect grandfather for their child.
Charles's mother was impressive looking. She was rather short and heavy-set, but despite that, there was a regal air about her. She looks solid and dependable,
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Mrs. Stanhope held out her hand. "My dear,
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, so good of you to join us. We've asked Charles to give us a few minutes alone with you. You don't mind?"
"Of course she doesn't mind," Charles's father declared. "Sit down... Tracy, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
The two of them seated themselves on a couch facing her. Why do I feel as though I'm about to undergo an inquisition? Tracy could hear her mother's voice: Baby, God will never throw anything at you that you can't handle. Just take it one step at a time.
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, because at that instant she could feel the run in her hose slither up to her knee. She tried to conceal it with her hands.
"So!" Mr. Stanhope's voice was hearty. "You and Charles want to get married."
The word want disturbed Tracy. Surely Charles had told them they were going to be married.
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