Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. Lucy was a hard worker and a good cook and because of those traits she and Sheila had gotten along most of the time. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in.
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