Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. The Lord have mercy upon you!" This ceremony concluded, the calvacade was again put in motion.
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