Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. Her mother had prepared her for everything. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly. His face darkened.
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