I know South America and Canada like the lines in my hand. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. Lucy followed her. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Ovarian cancer.
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