Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. Lucy finished Michelle off, leaving only a dry, unrecognizable husk. “They would spoil every chance. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness.
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