The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats.
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