” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. I arranged that he should.
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