She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy. . As he passed the Six Bells, he noticed the steeds of the two horsemen at the door; and glancing into the house, perceived the younger of the two in the passage. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America.
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