“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. Mr. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter.
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