’ The smile vanished. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. I'll think no more about her. Never really thought about Him—people don’t. ‘Mademoiselle. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. ‘This is not a place for a man.
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