F. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. ‘Very wise,’ commented Gerald. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. On the contrary, it was impossible to look at him without perceiving that his resolution was unshaken.
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