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Lucy ate without passion. “A girl needs her mother most exactly when she thinks she doesn’t. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “I am sick of it. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them.
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