Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. ‘Yes, I know. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. “Very big steps, moves fast. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr.
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