The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. It's of no use. I burned it. Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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