She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. “So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. I do not even know his name.
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