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She put her head out of the window. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. She tried to be casual. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. on. Kneebone will excuse you. . There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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