’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil.
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