Taking the wind was her business in life. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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