The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. Always as black and bitter as gall. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John.
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