Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. ” Lucy said. He smiled complacently. I have—run away.
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