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She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. ” “Oh, neat. ” John approached Lucy, handing the bouquet to her. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. I'll be at the Cross Shovels in the course of the day. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea.
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