Lucy simply added her own good night, even though a significant part of her wanted to call Cathy mother, she refrained. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl.
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