Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. "Kiss me. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Hawk and Buzzard.
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