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He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. She repeated phrases of Mrs. He worried me to marry him. I don’t want you to be sad.
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