” “I wonder,” said Mr. Lucy’s cool. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. ’ Gerald laughed. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering.
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