” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner.
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