Lucy gestured to Michelle to follow her downstairs. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said. "One of us has got to die," he panted. I got a rusty bolt cutter. “Have you not heard?” she said. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying.
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