He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents.
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