“Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. A queer nut. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table.
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