” Lucy considered the irony that Michelle had spent seventeen years waiting to escape the suburban existence she had always longed to live. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. Peste, she had forgot the sword.
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