" "Mr. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. “You fill me with happiness, John.
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