One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. " He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance.
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