A spacious suite of rooms down the hall John described as “my parents love den” with a grimace as Lucy smiled. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels.
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