It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. ” “I know,” said Ann Veronica (fifteen pounds!). She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. ’ “Crude, I admit. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone.
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