Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. Well, kill me. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. He embraced her like her father once had. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned.
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