Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. “I’m not the Devil. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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