\" It was a lie: Lucy ate one forced meal a day, supper. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. “I don’t mean simply intensity of sensation. She was delivered home by 11:30pm. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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