The Becks as a 187 family didn’t talk or ruminate over Mike’s or Lucy’s past much. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. It’s an emerald. Practically all. And then they disgorged. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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