She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. He waved a cordial goodbye. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously.
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