” “Did you ever formally change your name to Albert, Lucy?” “No, I did not. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said.
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