As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. They showered together. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. It wouldn't do to say that she was from the hospital. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman.
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