And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes. The light disappeared. I hate what I am. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. She chuckled. “Who are you?” She asked innocently.
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