Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. “Guess who I’m going out with?” Michelle asked her one day at lunch. Anna made things for her. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John.
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