Standing over the pierced Rhea, Lucy bayed, a long cry that was half-scream and half-howl. They trudged and talked, and Manning struggled, as he said, to “get the hang of it all. "My father!" she whispered. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. For a moment she remained silent.
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