She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. ‘You make a game with me, I think. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. "But this is good enough to travel in, isn't it?" "To be sure it is. ” “For what?” Lucy asked. . She hastened past.
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