Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t. Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. CHAPTER V.
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