" Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. “Go on,” he said. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. ” “I don’t understand. You are you.
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