His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. “I’m sorry Lucy! I’m sorry to Mike too! You were right, we’re a mismatch! I just don’t want to be lonely!” Lucy hugged Michelle.
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