Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat.
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