” “Sure thing, kid. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. For nothing they kiss. \"Good morning, Lucy\".
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