A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. “You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. .
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