Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. Three more people came to meet them at the door. It is like some accident. ” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. She too had seen. But Enschede took them as they came, without question. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. It is you who took my name, not I yours. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. It took my breath away.
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