Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. Lucy sat beside him. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit.
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