They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror. "I have killed her," cried Jack. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. Lucy's ears were singing.
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