The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. I have been thinking these things over lately, and it seems to me that marriage for a girl is just the supremest thing in life. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively.
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