Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. “I am happy. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her.
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