They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. Promise me. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. I believed that our marriage was genuine. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light.
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