Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. The phone did not ring. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God.
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