“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. “I don’t know why. “It may be her salvation. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage.
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