F. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant.
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