“Please forgive me, Lucy. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. She floundered deep. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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