The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. Lucy looked down, noticing that Michelle had left her shoes in the entryway. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. They laughed and talked and stared about them. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. It was everyone's favorite meal.
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