It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. I wanted something alive. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup.
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