” Lucy said, thinking of the Becks who worked around the clock just to keep a tiny house in the same neighborhood. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off.
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