A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned.
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