” He stroked her hand gently. “Lucy Albert. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends.
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