“The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. ‘Gérard is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness.
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