It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. "You mentioned Mrs. " "Pity!" shrieked the widow.
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