’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. His face was white. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. You on the other hand have to come to London, a worker, with the responsibility of life upon your own shoulders—and in addition all the burden of her follies. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty.
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