’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill.
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