The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Mike was in his blue jeans and a tee-shirt, and Lucy, knowing that Mrs. Kneebone smiled assent.
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