"Enough," said the widow, gratefully. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. 136 They came out and said it: Lucy was needed at home to cook and clean.
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