” Shari remarked as she gestured to Lucy’s reflection in the mirror. Gerald tried it. Surely it was a dream. The clock struck half-past ten. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood.
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