Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. Death belongs to God, young man. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. Um. It might prove rewarding. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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