Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. As usual, Lucy traced over parts of her experiences in her confidences with Shari, skipping lightly over her own 10 story as a pebble would over a lake. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese.
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