We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. You and I. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of.
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