She still had her letter of credit. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. It was bare of any furnishings. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. There was little fighting spirit here. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done.
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