\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. \"Hi Missy, have you met Lucy Albert?\" Lucy contrived a smile. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley.
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