” Lucy’s eyes smiled and a weary closed lipped smile arose on her face. It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of. "She wouldn't let me go. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. ‘All this gadding about.
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