Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. The crash was tremendous. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. I want to be a person by myself, and to pull my own strings.
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