” She smiled, sure of herself beyond any pretending, into his troubled eyes. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. ” Lucy walked out of her bedroom door following Mike down the tiny hall.
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