‘Dear me. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. Never mind. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. “These are the playgrounds of life.
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