The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. The jailers robbed the prisoners: the prisoners robbed one another.
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