“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. E below. Both carried packages of books and magazines. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
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