There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. Mike knocked on the door. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. \"You look nice, Lucy.
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