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Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. To such characters, fine actions are in themselves sufficient. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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