“Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. I have always hated it. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls.
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