" "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ‘She won’t. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. Lucy ate without passion.
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