A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. “But your sister?” he asked. Before Michelle could go on, Lucy interjected, \"You must have quite a course-load with all those heavy books.
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