She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. “Then why go out with him, Michelle? Why belabor yourself?” Lucy questioned. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. I knew it. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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