He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. \"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. Still no sound. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply.
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