1. He yelled at the girls for neglected to hand Lucy a pair of shorts or a sweater while they stood around in shock. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father.
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