Part 6 He became quite sure, by a sort of accumulation of reflection, as the day wore on. You hurt the child. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. ” Lucy welcomed her. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. Come on. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend.
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