Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. “You are beautiful, Lucy. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money. All the rest—Movements! I can live now on fourpence a day. ” She gasped. “Quite different.
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