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She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little party. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. ” Lucy answered, disturbed at how rehearsed the apology sounded. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla.
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