The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. The Denunciation. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. “You look great, Lucy.
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