Laughed at me, then. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant.
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