"My name is Ruth Enschede. After that night she made it a habit. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. 126 Lucy drank them as the first rays of watery sunlight seeped through the mullioned windows, then put their husks in the claw-footed bathtub. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it.
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