Then he threw the letter at me. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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