He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. But it’s very beastly. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. I asked him—to take me away. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. There was a couple who disappeared.
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