. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. You must wait till supper's over. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney.
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