\"How's it going, Lucy?\" She turned. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone.
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