A common rage flushed their faces. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. ‘Oh, you are making a game with me. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. 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.
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