These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. But his grief was of short duration.
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