The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. . You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. The Night-Cellar XVIII. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Lucy marveled at the billiards table and the sauna.
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