127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. Diable. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. Do have another. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room and thinking this out.
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