“Yes. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The fascination of the idea of throwing himself upon his knees and crying out all that was in his heart! As his eyes began to focus objects, he saw one of her arms extended upon the counterpane, in his direction, the hand clenched tightly. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. You must have figured that out by now. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice.
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