As for my past, Michelle, and Michael’s, it is a book of woeful chapters better left unread. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. ” “Oh, you mean Mr.
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