‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase.
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