The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. I don’t classify. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. We went to the Embassy.
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