I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. She moved a little nearer to him. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. ” She smiled at him cheerfully.
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