But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. “But how can you?” asked Constance. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. ” Lucy hesitated. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “My charm of manner, I suppose.
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