You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Here was a thundering blow. True to her nature, Cathy had already offered John snacks and drinks of water twice by the time Lucy bounded down the stairs at 3:58.
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