It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. ” Lucy put her hand to her heart and pulled one of her kinky curls straight. I don’t know. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. . She hated living like that. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter.
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